


Fall Down Seven Times, Stand Up Eight

by Tennyo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe, Community: deancasbigbang, DCBB, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2014, Human Castiel, Internalized Homophobia, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Multi, POV Alternating, Parallels to the Show, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to real events/places, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Strong Language, depictions of combat/war, drug use & abuse, physical injury, some torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 07:59:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 95,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2574104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tennyo/pseuds/Tennyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is an apartment manager. Not the job he thought he’d end up with, but after a minorly debilitating arm injury as a Marine in Iraq, he’s lucky Bobby was able to find him a job.<br/>Castiel James Novak has also returned from war after being in the Aviation regiment of the Army Special Forces. His damage is more psychological in nature. When he moves into Singer Gardens with his cousin Anna, neither he nor Dean expect to find that they have more in common than either would have guessed.<br/>A year in the life of two damaged men as they meet, then slowly find and heal each other. When one falls, the other is there to help him up again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Singer Gardens

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who helped make the longest thing I've ever written possible!  
> [ThroughTheTulips](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroughTheTulips) is my awesome pinch-hitting artist that whipped up the art for this. [Go to her Tumblr](http://interruptingpanda.tumblr.com/post/101950509172/so-these-are-my-contributions-for-tennyos-fall) [to see the art!](http://kaeostennyo.tumblr.com/post/101955329525/interruptingpanda-so-these-are-my-contributions)  
> I want to thank all my alpha/beta readers. Without you, I'd have probably dropped out:  
> [MollyC](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MollyC), [Elizabeth1985](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth1985), [ProfoundBondOfLove](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfoundBondOfLove), [BeccastielDW](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BeccastielDW),  
> Also my entire GISHWHES team! You guys are the BEST! 
> 
> And thank you, Reader, who chose to try this story.
> 
> If you have comments or suggestions, please, feel free to leave them here, or on my [Tumblr](http://kaeostennyo.tumblr.com/).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: War flashback, PTSD symptoms

 

2012

It’s early May, and Dean’s out on the riding lawn mower, taking care of the straggly growth of grass across the expansive lawns around Singer Gardens apartments. This is one of the times where he doesn’t have to answer phones or be stuck in the office. He can just cruise around, letting the drone of the mower's engine drown out everything. Bobby insisted he wear the company logo when on duty, so he’s in a gray, long-sleeve Singer Gardens t-shirt, wearing a freebie Lowe’s cap to block the sun.

The steady growl and smooth ride of the John Deere lulls him, until he feels a twinge from his left arm when he spins the wheel for a sharp turn. Most of Dean’s left shoulder and upper arm is scar tissue, from an explosion in Iraq that left most of his squad dead. Between the shrapnel and the burns, they had almost taken the arm off, but he’d insisted on trying to keep it. Now, it mostly works, although the nerve damage has made it weak. Sometimes it acts up and will lock, or just go completely numb. Bonus is the weird-ass hand-shaped mark that was apparently left by whoever dragged him out of the burning wreckage of the Marine transport vehicle that had gotten hit by an IED.

Thanks to the gift from a roadside bomber, Dean got a medical discharge, and had trouble finding regular work as a mechanic, since he needed both hands to effectively do his job. Uncle Bobby had brought him on at the salvage yard for a while, mostly out of pity. But when he needed a new manager for his failing apartment complex, he’d turned to Dean, said he was one of the few people he could trust to turn it around; but he had the sneaking suspicion it was because of that one day Bobby almost had a car roll over on him, courtesy of Dean’s flailing arm at the controls of the backhoe and ramming the scoop into a stack.

Dean was happy to have the job managing the apartments; especially after Sam, his big-shot lawyer baby brother, helped  rework all the paperwork after a nasty lawsuit from an evicted tenant. But sometimes he felt useless, spending most of his day behind a desk, only able to do small maintenance and repairs because of his faulty arm. He had to call Bobby for the big stuff, and vendors for the few things neither of them were licensed to do.

While thinking of Sam, his mind wanders to last weekend’s dinner at Sam’s, when they celebrated his twenty-ninth birthday early, just them and Bobby and Jess. He smiles, thinking about how Sam’s wife insisted on throwing a birthday party. It’s not like they ever really used to celebrate before. But Jess used her pregnancy as an excuse to get her way, and Sam always had trouble saying no to that woman anyway. Dean smiles, thinking of how there’s going to be another Winchester in the family soon.

He’s just rounded the last corner of the south side, when he notices a little gray Kia hatchback parked in front of the office. As he gets closer, he notices a woman with deep red hair shoving a phone back into her purse. Skinny jeans and a form-fitting white top and green jacket accentuate her slender frame. Waving at her, Dean raises the mower blades and hits the throttle to try to catch up before she gets back into the car. She’s pretty, with pale skin, angular features, and wide-set eyes. Noticing him, she waits as he pulls up on his trusty John Deere. Turning the key to shut off the mower, he whips off his cap, running a hand through his short, light brown hair and giving one of his trademark smiles.

“Sorry about that, I’ve been mowing. I’m Dean Winchester, what can I do for you?” He wipes his hand on his jeans before offering it, and she automatically grasps it, smiling in return.

“Anna. I was hoping to look at an apartment for my brother.” She gestures to the car, where he can see a figure in the passenger seat.

“Sure, let’s head into the office, and I’ll show you what’s available.”

Anna tells him she’ll be just a minute, as she turns back to the car to apparently retrieve her brother. Unlocking the office door and propping it open, Dean goes for the brochures that list all the apartments and layouts. With a pen and clipboard in hand, he turns to see Anna leading in… a man in a trenchcoat. Dean’s not one to judge, but it’s pretty warm outside, one of the warmest days of the season so far. And dude’s standing there in a full suit, with jacket and tie, and a full-length creeper-style trenchcoat.

With a mental shrug he rolls with it, smiling and reaching out to shake the guy’s hand. Incredibly blue eyes stare back at him from an impassive face framed by short, windswept, dark brown hair. The guy’s hands remain loose at his sides. Clearing his throat, Dean withdraws his hand and turns to face both of the guests in his office.

Anna speaks up, “Sorry, this is Jimm— I mean, Castiel.” The name slip gets a sideways glance from her brother, but other than that, he remains impassive. Her smile starts to fall as anxiety slides into her demeanor. Pretending to ignore the slip, but curious about the weird name, Dean tries to steer the conversation to business.

“So, what are you looking for? We have a couple of different models currently available.”

Anna does all the talking, and explains that Castiel will be needing a 2-bedroom apartment, and will have her as a live-in caretaker. Dean knows better than to ask directly as to why, but he does ask if they would prefer ground floor or an upstairs unit. He watches during another brief awkward silence as Anna looks at her brother, who is busy inspecting an artificial ficus tree.

“Perhaps... ground floor would be best.”

After some discussion about what’s available, Dean grabs the keys to a few empty apartments, and pauses to reach into the fridge for a cold bottle of water. When he offers his guests a bottle, Anna declines, and Castiel continues with his deadpan staring routine. Shrugging, Dean twists off the cap and takes a couple of quick gulps, apologizing. Mowing makes a person thirsty.

With keys, clipboard, brochure, and water in hand, Dean shows them the closest apartment available. Castiel ghosts through the rooms, no indication of interest or acknowledgement as Dean ticks off the list of amenities. He tries his best to engage Anna in conversation, but whenever the subject turns to her brother, she becomes tight-lipped, with quick glances in Castiel’s direction. He does manage to learn that their family is well off, and Mr. Quiet has apparently been in the hospital for something. Thinking he’s just gonna start calling the guy Cas, Dean leads them to the second model available, as the first one didn’t seem to meet their needs.

After the next two apartments seem to be a bust, Dean goes for the big guns and shows them the nicest townhouse they’ve got. Recently remodeled, the upstairs master bedroom has a balcony, and all the rooms have those individual slim-line AC/heater units. The patio off the dining area faces one of the complex’s gardens, and the sight of the flowers and greenery gets the first response Dean’s seen out of Cas so far. The guy squints and tilts his head, gazing out at the garden through the sliding glass doors.

After a tour through the place, dude simply nods to his sister. Anna perks up, and tells Dean that this is the one they want. As he leads them back to the office to fill out an application, he begins to wonder if something really weird is going to show up on the screening. There’s just something… off… about the guy, and the way his sister treats him… And why does he feel like he’s met this dude before?

While the application is being filled out, one mystery is solved. Castiel James Novak. So, his sister is probably used to calling him Jimmy, or something,  for his middle name. _I would too, with a name like Castiel,_ Dean thinks. But then why would he seem to insist on going by his first name now? Further down, another mystery solved, dude’s most recent address for the past few months has been at the VA hospital. Probably just got off-duty and has who knows what kinds of PTSD. Dean mentions he was a Marine, and for the second time today, he sees the squinty head-tilt, directed at him this time. Anna says that Cas was an Army Ranger. He doesn’t press for more. He notices Anna’s last name is Milton, but figures she’s married, or has been at least, as he doesn’t see a ring on her finger. That name sounds familiar, too.

After the app fees are paid, all that’s left is for the screening to be run and their references checked. Promising to get back to them as soon as the screening is complete, he shakes Anna’s hand and waves to Cas who has headed straight out to the car and is waiting for the door to be unlocked. With an apologetic smile, Anna thanks Dean for his time, and goes out to let her brother into the car. As he watches them leave, Dean can’t help but think he’s seen that guy before. Maybe at the VA during one of his physical therapy sessions? Flexing the muscles in his left arm and feeling the damage around the shoulder, he locks the office and gets back on the mower to finish his rounds.

\---

The next Monday, Anna and Castiel come back to sign lease papers. Even though Dean had a weird feeling, nothing in their paperwork could be used as grounds for a denial. Cas is in the suit and trenchcoat ensemble again, but at least it’s cooler today than when they first came by. Since Anna’s going to be Cas’ live-in caretaker for at least a couple of months, Dean finds the perfect opportunity to ask about her last name.

“So, you married, divorced?” He acts casual, as he points to her last name on the driver’s license he just copied.

“Oh,” she looks a bit surprised for a moment, “No, just… Technically we’re cousins, but after his parents died, our family took him in, so we've been raised like siblings.”

Her eyes flick over to Cas, but he just sits in his chair, staring straight at Dean like he can see into his soul. Someone should tell the guy it’s a bit creepy. With a shrug, Dean pulls out the freshly printed stack of paperwork for them to sign. He puffs up a bit at the hard work that his little brother Sam put into reworking the leases when Bobby was struggling to keep the place going on his own, right before Dean started helping out.

Sammy’s a lawyer at a fancy firm downtown, and Dean’s proud of how well he’s done. Married to a beautiful woman, baby on the way, Dean thinks that it’s okay that his own life’s mostly gone to shit if his little brother can be happy. That’s when something clicks in his brain. Milton. Dean looks at the copy of Anna’s license, then back up at her, looking into her hazel-brown eyes. No. Way.

“Uhh, would you happen to be related to Gabriel Milton, the lawyer?”

“Yes, he’s my older brother. Why?”

Dean uses the moment to brag a bit on his little brother, who just happens to work in _her_ brother’s law firm, and comments about how it’s a small world. They get down to signing the lease, and he goes over the generals of the contract out loud, as Cas doesn’t seem to be interested in looking it over, just signing where Anna tells him to. When it’s all done, Dean runs the whole mess through the copier and tucks it neatly into an envelope with their names and apartment number on it. Keys in hand, he leads them over for a final once-through, showing them where to park, where the mailbox is, the location of the breaker box, etc.

Cas gets sucked back towards the flower garden as Dean hands over the keys to Anna. With a flirty half-smile, he reminds her of his office hours and the emergency number if she needs anything, anything at all. He knows better than to flirt with not only a resident, but the sister of a lawyer who can pretty much end his family with the stroke of a pen. But he can’t help it, it’s his nature.

******

Castiel stands in the middle of the room he has claimed as his own. He would have insisted Anna take it, as it has the larger closet, if not for the view. The garden is right below his window, and he would prefer that over a parking lot view. The sight of growing things calms him, and he needs to keep calm.

“ _Don’t think of the things you’ve witnessed_ ,” they had said, “ _don’t think of the things you’ve done_.”

How can he not? All the destruction, everything that was his fault… Anna knocks on the door frame, effectively derailing that train of thought.

“Hey, you okay in here?”

He turns and smiles at her, “Yes, I will need a new bed, I suppose.”

 _I’m starting over_ , he thinks, _I can put it all behind me, get better, be a new man._

Anna gives a tentative half smile. “You wanna come with me and pick one out?”

Castiel’s face falls, his insides twisting. “Will this involve… talking to people?”

Deciding the signing of paperwork is enough of an outing, they don’t go out for furniture that day. They go back to their family’s home to decide what to move into their new apartment. One panic attack, two catalogues and three websites later, Anna has helped Castiel choose a bedroom suite, linens, and a color scheme.

Throughout the week they move things in, and by the weekend Castiel decides he is ready to try to sleep in his new home. Anna will be right across the hall, and his new sleep medication seems to be preventing any dreams. He looks down at the new comforter covering his new bed. They had found one in a lovely mottled jade green, with golden highlights throughout. Anna picked sheets in a mint color to go with it.  As he strokes the soft fabric, a pair of eyes flash through his mind, similar in color, green with hints of gold.  

Shaking his head, he stands up and he hears the front door open downstairs. His whole body tenses until he hears the familiar voice of his sister call to him.

“Hey, what do you want for dinner?”

***

Dean hasn’t seen much of that Cas guy while he got moved in, but he’s seen plenty of Anna. He makes a point to say hello to Anna when he sees her showing up with something new to move in. She’s usually just gotten off work from her part-time job at the nursing home, red hair in a ponytail and wearing scrubs with a different pattern every day. Today’s outfit features purple pants and the top is white with blue and pink butterflies. He’s walking back to the office with a couple who are interested in moving in, and he winks as he passes by and greets her. Satisfied by the smile he gets in return, he continues talking up the couple on the way to the office.

Fifteen till five, and he’s clearing up the paperwork from the day, ready for the weekend to start. A knock at the door has him looking up to see Anna, and she’s changed into shorts and a t-shirt. He can’t help but notice her slender curves as she comes in, and there’s a big grin on his face as he waves her over.

“I hate to bother you, but…”

“No bother, what can I do for you, Miss Milton?”

She tucks a lock of her hair, now down around her shoulders, behind an ear.

“We’ve got lots of boxes to get rid of. What day did you say recycling was picked up?”

He leans back in his chair, pen tapping on the desk. “Trash is on Wednesday, recycling on Thursday. You can stack the flattened boxes in-between the blue bins, and the recycling guys will take care of it.”

Giving a grateful look, she continues, “Thanks, Jimmy didn’t have much of anything, so we basically got almost everything new.”

That name again. It catches his attention, and Dean sits up in his chair. “So, which name do I call him? Castiel? Jimmy?”

Anna looks embarrassed, and he offers her a seat. “Well, he prefers Castiel now.” She pauses, looking out the window. “He came back from the Army different. He’s spent the past few months in the VA being treated for whatever happened to him over there.”

Dean pushes up enough of his sleeve to show some of the scarring on his left arm. “Trust me, I know about recovery.”

She looks down into her lap, fingers intertwined. “No, it was less physical, more… mental.”

Oh. Well, he’s seen and experienced first-hand what going to war can do to a person’s melon. Sliding his hand across the desk, Dean says, “Hey, just know I understand, OK? If you guys need anything, you know where to find me.”

With a small smile, Anna lightly brushes his hand with her fingers. “Thanks so much. I should get going, time to start dinner.”

Dean nods, and watches her leave. Frowning, he thinks about what he’s just been told. If this Cas guy’s a little loose in the walnut, maybe he needs to keep more of an eye on him, just in case.

Looking at his calendar, he sees a date circled and smiles. His son’s birthday is coming soon, and he needs to get the present mailed. It’s difficult to tell what Ben likes, because he never gets to see him, but he’s trying. And he gets to see him soon, spend some time with him. He sighs, standing up from his desk and locks up the office. Except for maintenance emergencies, he gets the weekends free.

\---

Middle of the month, Dean’s cleaning the pool filter when he hears a familiar voice with a deep, Southern drawl:

“Look at you, Winchester. A regular working stiff.”

Turning around, he sees a man who’s almost as tall as he is, stocky with short brown hair and a graying beard. He’s wearing an unbuttoned white henley and blue Dickies work pants. Dean is stunned into silence a moment before replying, and the other man watches him in amusement.

Dean manages to blurt out, “Benny?”

The man straightens, snaps his heels together and salutes, “Corporal Lafitte, reporting for duty, SIR!”

Laughing and wiping his hands on his jeans, Dean walks over with his arms open. “That’s Sergeant, I still work for a living. Good to see you, man!”

Benny drops his stance and meets Dean with a crushing hug and a clap on the back. “We both made it brother, I can’t believe it.”

Later, in Dean’s office, he and Benny are drinking cans of soda. “So what brings you to Sioux Falls?”

Benny plays with the pop-top of his can before answering. “Well, I told you about my situation before the Marines, right?”

Dean nods. Benny had told him about the gang he’d been a part of before enlisting. He’d used the military as a way to escape that life.

“Well, they were the only family I knew. Now that I’m back in the States, I ain’t got nowhere to go. Figured I’d check on an old friend, see how his war injuries were healing up.”

Dean shrugs, “Eat some Grunt Candy*, drink some water, and I’m fine.”

Shaking his head and laughing, Benny looks at Dean sideways. “Well, it's good to know you're still dumb as ever.”

Making a face, Dean kicks his foot lightly. “Hey, I still outrank you.”

Falling into a comfortable conversation, they spend Dean’s lunch break discussing what it’s like being back in civilian life. When Benny mentions that it’s been tough on his own, Dean comes up with a suggestion.

“You know, sometimes my injury makes it difficult to do some of the heavy lifting around here. I could use another set of hands.” It takes a lot for Dean to admit he needs help, but if it means helping a buddy out at the same time, he’s not afraid to pull that card.

“Well, you don’t gotta go through all that trouble on my account.”

Dean smiles, shaking his head. “You’d be doing me a solid. Just need to go talk to the old boss man to get it set up.” He grabs a brochure, “In the meantime, you’re looking for a place to stay, right?”

He offers Benny his couch until they can get him in an apartment, and hopefully a job. After a reluctant acceptance, Dean says he has to get back to work, so he shows Benny where to park his rusted-out ancient pickup truck and gives him a key to his apartment. For the rest of the day, he thinks of the extra supplies he’ll need to pick up, and plans on grilling his awesome handmade burgers.

By the end of the week, Dean has convinced Bobby to let Benny work as part-time maintenance, and they’re going to wait until the first of the month to get Benny moved into his own studio apartment, so he can save a little cash. Luckily for the both of them, Dean and Benny are used to living in close quarters and are tidy, so sharing the small apartment for a couple of weeks won’t be that big of a deal.

Adding Benny to the team turns out to be fortuitous, because the next week, they get a call about water leaking in an apartment. Ms. Ellis, probably their oldest resident, has a soaked carpet and water running down her walls. It turns out the water heater upstairs blew out. The girl that lives there, Charlie Bradbury, is rarely home so it went unnoticed until poor Ms. Ellis’ apartment got soaked. Charlie had just moved into that apartment in April, too. After shutting off the main valve, he calls her so she’ll know about it. By the end of the day, they’ve got the water heater replaced, but he’s going to have to move Ms. Ellis out so they can gut the water damaged apartment and remodel.

By the end of the week, Dean’s left arm is spasming, with alternating intermittent bursts of pain and numbness. It’s practically useless, so he keeps it in a sling to hold it out of the way. Charlie came home to check the damage, and hung around to talk to Dean about the Trek convention she’d been at, where she had gotten to meet Patrick Stewart, William Shatner, _and_ Kate Mulgrew. She missed the Benedict Cumberbatch panel though, so she decided to hang around the apartment.

Charlie, a perky 27 year old redhead, works over at Roman Enterprises in the IT department. When Dean asks how she can manage to stay gone all the time, she winks and mentions that most of what she does can be done out of the office. That, and half the conventions she goes to are paid for by the company because she actually mixes in a few tech conferences to throw off the scent.

Dean remembers her apartment had been practically wallpapered in posters, figurines and other fan-related stuff, and he asks why she doesn’t have a boyfriend, when she’d obviously have her pick of all the guys that show up at those things. She just eyeballs him and declares she doesn’t “swing that way”. Stunned, he sits for a moment, realizing what she’d just revealed. Not that he has a problem with it, far from it. She just… didn’t seem the type. Then, she winks and says that it’s fun to try to pick up the ladies though, because they’re not expecting another girl to hit on them. Dean can't help but laugh at that.

After an afternoon of conversation, followed by pizza and beer in front of the TV, Dean has a new friend. He’s beginning to think he might be a bit of a geek as well, if Charlie has any say in the matter. They like a lot of the same shows and movies. He’s not sure if he’d go so far as to get a tattoo of Princess Leia in a slave bikini like Charlie has, though. She says if they go to Comic-Con together and he gets drunk enough, he might be surprised what he’d come home with.

The last week of the month keeps Dean busy with last-minute apartment hunters. Benny ends up being the one to supervise the re-do of Ms. Ellis’ old unit, now that she’s completely moved out. Even though Dean normally is too stubborn to ask for help, he’s glad for it, because his damn left arm is still acting up. He’s gonna have to see an acupuncturist if it doesn't settle down soon. He hates going to the shop though, especially with a hippy-dippy name like “Higher Plane Salon”. It doesn’t matter that Pamela dresses more like a roadie than a new-age healer, she owns a frigging _salon_. But Pamela’s great at making the jitters and shit in his messed up nerves calm down, so he eventually sucks it up and makes an appointment for the weekend.

He remembers when he first met Pamela Barnes, back when he was drinking himself stupid more often than not. There's a bar down at the state line called The Roadhouse, and it was a place his dad used to hang out. He’d been chatting up the brunette in question when his damn arm decided to knock their drinks into the floor. She mentioned acupuncture, and he immediately started to shut her down. But Pam was stubborn and insisted on a free session back at her place. When she offered free drinks if it didn’t work, he was in.

At first, Dean though it would involve some kinky sex, but all she did was give his arm and back a light massage and then stuck some freakishly long needles into his arm and shoulder. Surprisingly it worked, and he went a full two weeks without so much as a twinge out of it. It didn’t help with the numbness, but the pain and spasms greatly reduced whenever he went to see her. While they never got together sexually, they’d become friends.

\---

_...September 18, 2008. Al-Anbar Province..._

His squad is all cramped up in the back of a MTVR, heading across the sandbox at night with the rest of the platoon to their new patrol region. He’s riding up front in the middle vehicle, and all he can see through the windscreen is the taillights of the one in front. Everyone’s in full Tac gear, and he can hear the guys in the back over the engine noise. They’re screwing around to keep themselves occupied, because no one can sleep during these trips, as bumpy and uncomfortable as the roads are.

The caravan slows down as they pass a burning-out husk of a car. A trill of apprehension rolls up Dean’s spine, and he’s just about to radio the other vehicles when the explosion hits. Somehow, the seven-ton six-wheeler rolls over, trapping him in the front cabin. He’s dazed and his ears are ringing while he tries to right himself from his crumpled upside-down position. As if from far away, he can hear gunfire popping, and he tries to yank open the door, but it’s jammed. That’s when he notices he’s bleeding, with bits of metal and glass sticking out of his left arm. He must have raised it to protect his face during the blast.

He looks to his left to see the slumped, unmoving form of the driver, bleeding out onto the roof. Grabbing the guy’s helmet to see if he’s okay, the chin strap slides wetly past what used to be his face. After a quick check to make sure the soldier is dead, he tries crawling over him to the hole in the windscreen, to get out toward safety. That’s when he smells the fuel.

The area surrounding them is engulfed in flames before he can even make it through the broken windscreen, and he backs up, curling into a ball to protect himself from the fire. He can feel the heat, the inability to breathe as the oxygen is sucked out of the cabin, and black smoke fills the air. In order to try to escape the heat and smoke, he crawls further back into the confining space. Reaching for his radio, he sends out a distress call, coughing and stumbling on his words as he tries to remain conscious. He’s still clutching the handset to this chest, his injured left arm over his head when he passes out.

A wrenching pain jars him, as he’s pulled arm-first out of the vehicle. Intense white light spears his vision. He can make out blurry shapes dashing around in the shadows, flickering orange flames in the periphery. Shouts and intermittent gunfire, as well as the whump-whump of helicopter blades are all around him. Someone removes his helmet, and there’s a shadowed face right in front of him.

“Hey, are you alright? Can you answer me?”

His head is spinning, and he can’t seem to form words properly. Hands check him over, and he can just make out the blue eyes of the soldier they belong to as the man looks up to bark out orders and to maybe check his surroundings. Suddenly, he’s wracked with coughing, and he curls onto his uninjured side to vomit onto the ground. The last thing he sees before he goes back under is a pair of outstretched, bright red wings on a blue background, as a gravelly voice shouts out, “We got one over here! Get him to the chopper! Winchester, you’re gonna make it, you hear me?”

Dean jerks awake, left arm throbbing and spasming, curled up against his chest.  The sheets are twisted around him, and he’s shivering, covered in cold sweat. It’s been a while since he’s had such a vivid flash-back, and he collapses back onto his pillow. Taking a deep breath, he chases the scents and tastes of the dream from his mind, only smelling his own sweat and the scent of detergent on his pillow.  He listens to the whoosh of the air conditioner, the ticking of the clock. _I’m not there anymore,_ he thinks, trying to relax back into the mattress. _I’m safe, in South Dakota. Not Iraq. Not Afghanistan._ With another shiver, he clutches at his damaged arm as it twitches, and listens to the gentle sound of rain against his window.

******

Castiel wakes early to an abnormally cold and rainy morning. The past couple days have been quite chilly for the end of May, and the trend bothers him. By the gloomy gray pre-dawn light, he makes his way to the bathroom for a shower. Under the hot spray, he tries to dispel his misgivings about the weather.

 _This is not the work of supernatural forces_ , he tells himself. _There is no such things as angels and demons, these are not atmospheric portents of metaphysical manifestations. Severe storms further south have merely disrupted the atmosphere_.

He continues in this way, using as many scientific terms as possible about atmospheric layers, jet streams and pressures, to remind himself of logic and reason. He does not need to get caught up in the destructive, circular thoughts that arise when he can’t science his way out of such ideas. He just needs to go have breakfast and take his medication.

Getting out of the shower and drying off, he wraps the towel around his hips before wiping off the foggy mirror. Castiel stares back into his blue eyes, and then looks down at who he is now. He used to be tan and fit, now he’s growing pale and softening in the middle from being indoors and lack of activity. His medication isn’t helping with that either. He’s been lucky enough to avoid many war-wounds, with the exception of a few marks here and there.

Even with tattoos, he only has a couple. Anna keeps saying he was a Ranger, and he had been, but he’d quickly been recruited to Special Operations, and his aviations platoon had all gotten the distinctive ARSOAC blue shield with upstretched red wings tattooed on their left shoulders. While the regiment was known as the Night Stalkers, his company was called the Bloody Angels. Sometimes Castiel wondered if he had been placed there solely because of his name.

Looking lower, he brushes his fingers over the black symbols on his lower left abdomen. A fellow soldier and friend, Uri, had done some research and made a kind of protection warding in Enochian and that had been tattooed there. It was supposed to make him invisible to the enemy.

With a look at his overly thick and unruly hair, he thinks it’s time for a trim, and his chin is getting scruffy enough to require more than a regular razor to get through the growth. He’ll deal with it later he thinks, combing his fingers through his damp mop to try to get it to lay down a little. Hanging up his wet towel, he goes back to his room to get dressed.

Shivering, he quickly dresses, pulling on a pair of boxers before sliding on the white scrubs he now sees as his everyday loungewear. It’s comfortable, simple cotton and it relieves the stress of trying to decide what to wear every day. When he needs to go out in public, there is a suit hanging in his closet. When he reaches the door to his room, he fingers the soft, worn fabric of the trenchcoat on its hanger, held up by a hook on the back of the door.

It’s the last reminder of his life from before when he was Jimmy Novak, an EMT in Pontiac, Illinois with only a few hours left from completing his Paramedic schooling. But after the attacks of 9/11, he had volunteered to help with the rescue efforts and then he’d gone on to join the Army, in spite of his family’s protests. Originally wanting to be in the medical field, he had been headhunted by the Rangers after his performance during Basic.

After almost a year of training and instruction, he had been sent to Iraq as part of the 75th Ranger Regiment. During his time there, he showed interest in the aircraft that often transported his unit. He’d soon drawn the attention of higher-ups and underwent even more training in order to join the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment and was sent this time to Afghanistan.

He enjoyed flying and was proficient at maneuvering during night missions. With a preference for the Little Bird helicopters, more of his fellow soldiers started referring to him as Castiel the flying angel, instead of Novak. When he had made Sergeant, one of the more artistic soldiers in his company presented him with a drawing depicting him with massive black wings and full tactical gear. His company commander, known as Raphael, congratulated him personally on his rise to leadership among the Bloody Angels.

Dazed, Castiel realizes he’s been standing here holding the sleeve of his old coat, staring off into space. He wants to put the coat on, but it is for Outside Only. He feels comfortable in it, and wants to be comforted by its folds into which he can retreat. _Maybe I should get a robe_ , he thinks, but that would remind him too much of the hospital, so he sighs and heads downstairs toward breakfast and his morning medication.

With a bowl of instant oatmeal and a cup of hot tea, he settles in the armchair next to the sliding glass door, where he can see the garden. Even though the sun has risen, the morning is dark and chill, even the birds are quiet. He wonders if it will get warm enough for the bees, which he enjoys watching among the flowers. While he does not enjoy interacting with people, he does like to watch them, and  his apartment has a good view of the neighborhood beyond the apartments. He also sees Dean when the man does his daily property walks or mows the grass.

Shifting his attention, Castiel picks up the TV remote and turns on the news. When he sees the media coverage about Syria, he quickly pushes the power button. With a sigh, he reaches for his morning dose of medication. He’s not heartless, no. More like he has too much heart, and knowing he can’t do something about the situation only makes it worse, and he doesn’t need an early morning panic attack. He moved here for calm and quiet, in order to keep his condition in check, so he can begin to heal.

After swallowing his pill with a sip of tepid tea, he finishes his breakfast in silence, staring out at the gray morning.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Grunt Candy/Ranger Candy: Large Ibuprofen pills that military medics often give for numerous pains.


	2. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: Past Dean/Lisa, John Winchester's death

By the beginning of June, Dean’s arm is feeling better just in time for move-outs and rent. Luckily, he’s only got two more units opening up, so he can take his time getting them cleaned. He’s been seeing more of that Cas guy in the mornings, hanging around the gardens. He doesn't seem dangerous, but he’s always wearing white pajamas and that damn trenchcoat whenever he’s outside. Definitely a weirdo. And, whenever he notices Dean, he either runs off or stares with this laser-beam focus that’s a bit unsettling. Even so, Dean can’t help but think he’s familiar somehow, and it makes him stare back just a little too long.

Dean’s excited, because his son is coming to visit through Independence Day starting on the ninth. He’s planning a month of fishing trips, weekends camping, maybe a ball game or car-show thrown in. He only gets to see Ben a couple of times a year, and he feels like he’s missing out on the boy’s life. Ben’s already thirteen, and is almost as tall as his mom already. Lisa is probably gonna lecture him about spoiling the kid afterwards, but what’s he supposed to do? Lisa won’t let him visit more often.

After the office closes on the eighth, Dean tosses an overnight bag into his car, a classic 1967 Impala, and begins the overnight trip to Battle Creek, Michigan to pick up Ben. Heading south on I-29, he pops a Led Zeppelin tape in the deck and cranks it up. Hitting Highway 20 at Sioux City, Dean settles in for the long trip. The sun is at his back, glinting off the chrome and glossy black paint of his baby.

One wouldn’t normally think to take a classic car like this on a long trip, but Dean can’t imagine driving anything else. The Impala had been his dad’s car, and she’s been a permanent fixture in his and Sam’s lives. After their mom died in a house fire when he was four and Sammy was just a baby, they had practically lived in the car, as Dad had trouble finding a place to settle. That left Dean, at a very young age, taking care of his baby brother. Even when they started staying at Uncle Bobby’s, Dean felt like it was his responsibility to take care of Sam.

The car had become Dean’s after high school. He had dropped out, gotten his GED and started working, and Dad had given her to him under threat of bodily harm if he didn’t keep her up. Considering he had gotten a job working as a mechanic, it wasn’t that difficult.

After the towers got hit on 9/11, Sam had just started at Stanford. Dean felt the urge to enlist, but was torn between his obligations. Dad helped make the decision after a drunken argument about how things would have been handled when he had been a Marine, and how Dean was useless. He enlisted in 2003 and was in Iraq before 2004. Baby had stayed at Bobby’s for safe keeping and for Sam to drive during school breaks.

Dean runs his hand along the steering wheel, thinking about how the car looked in June of ‘06. He hadn’t seen Dad or Sammy since enlisting, and he’d gotten emergency leave after being informed of the accident. Sam had gone home for the summer and was apparently driving a very drunk Dad home from a bar when an 18-wheeler had T-boned them. Sam had come out with minor injuries, thank God. But Dad, his side got the full force of the truck’s grille. When Dean had gotten to the hospital, Sam was seated by the bed, and all the wires and hoses coming out of his dad’s body… He couldn’t handle it. So instead, he went to Bobby’s junkyard to look at the car.

Bobby wasn’t his real, blood-related uncle, but he’d been a friend to their father for as long as they’d known him. When he had offered to take care of the boys when their dad couldn't deal, he had become family to them. Dean could remember overhearing one side of an argument when Dad had called to let him know he was coming for them.

“John Winchester, they’re little boys, not soldiers. You gotta let them have something resembling a normal life.”

“Yes, they are your boys, but if you keep this up, you’re gonna lose them.”

“You think they're gonna want to hang around you when they’re grown if you keep acting like this?”

Bobby had lost his wife before having any kids of his own, and tried to give Dean and Sam the childhood he felt they deserved. He’d played ball with them, encouraged them to join clubs and sports, even gave Dean his first job. When Dean had shown up on his porch still in uniform and his duffle in tow, Bobby had simply hugged him.

When they’d gone to look at the car, she was trashed. The frame was warped, engine ruined.  Bobby offered to scrap her. But Dean felt if there was at least one working part, it was worth it to try. So while Sam sat at their father’s bedside, waiting to see if he’d come out of his coma, Dean worked on Baby. Because when Dad got better, he’d want to see Dean was taking good care of her.

There were a couple of times when he’d rushed to the hospital because it either looked like Dad was going to come out of the coma, or he was getting worse. Hoses and wires were still sticking out of the man’s body, but Dean decided if Sammy could stand by him the whole time, he could too, for a little while. It was weird seeing him like this, so diminished and still, with a machine helping him breathe. Often, the only sounds in the room were the beeping of machines, and the whoosh-hiss of the ventilator.

The Fourth of July came and went, neither brother interested in fireworks. Sam would talk about school and Dean would talk about what life was like as a soldier in the deserts of the Middle East. Occasionally, Dean would drag his brother back to Bobby’s for a decent meal and a real bed, and to check the progress he was making on the Impala. Sam appreciated his efforts, as he had seen the car as much of a symbol of home as Dean had, if not more since he didn’t have memories of Mom or the house in Kansas.

On July 17th, they both happened to be in their dad’s room when he had a brief moment of lucidity.  They had removed the ventilation tube earlier when he’d started breathing on his own, and Dean held his hand as the man focused on him. He whispered something, and Dean leaned down to hear him.

“I’m sorry.”

“What? Dad?” There were tears in Sam’s eyes, his face close to hear what he was saying.

Their father took a deep breath before rasping out brokenly in his unused voice, “Sorry… shouldn't have... grew up too fast… proud…”

“Shh, Dad, it’s okay, you just get better, okay? You can tell us when you’re better.”

Sam had to sit back and wipe away the tears, so relieved to see him awake.  Dean felt a squeeze of his hand and focused on his dad’s eyes once more.

“Watch over Sammy, okay?”

Dean gave a watery smile, lip quivering with emotion. It was the same order he always got from him when he went out. “Yeah, Dad. You know I will. Now stop scaring us, okay?”

With a pained smile, his dad closed his eyes and went back under, his grip loosening around Dean’s hand. He never gained consciousness again, and he crashed again the morning of the 19th. Both brothers were forced out of the room, and they watched desperately as the medical staff tried to resuscitate their father. An immeasurable amount of time later, the doctor called it. John Winchester died at 10:41 AM on July 19, 2006.

There was a storm the day of the funeral, not that many people came for it. It was a thunderstorm with severe winds and huge hail. The boys withstood it all, not leaving the gravesite until their father had been put into the ground. Rain washed away their tears, and Bobby drove them back to his place when it was all over. Dean remembers taking out his frustrations on the trunk of the Impala with a crowbar afterwards.

Dean had to return to Iraq soon after, having milked his leave for as much as he could. He promised to keep in touch with Sam more, and they hugged tightly at the airport before the security check-in. While they were able to keep in contact through email and letters, he wouldn’t see his brother again until after the attack on his convoy in Iraq.

\---

Dean makes a stop after sunset in Waterloo for gas, a piss-break, and to get some grub. While at the Gas-n-Sip, he ponders picking up the newest volume of Busty Asian Beauties, but decides it would be too embarrassing knowing Ben would be in the car with him later. When he gets back to the Impala, he trails his fingers along her glossy finish. Bobby helped him finish her, but he was so proud that he could put her back together, make her good as new. After a quick trip through a drive through, he gets back on the road, hitting I-380 until Cedar Rapids then getting on Highway 30 for another long stretch.

A little before midnight, Dean crashes at the Pines Motel just outside Amboy, Illinois. It’s one of the few places that still does everything the old-fashioned way, with paper and pen. The beds are clean, the room is cheap, and in the morning there’s a restaurant across Highway 52 that serves an awesome breakfast. He’s stiff from driving, but after a quick shower he falls asleep quickly, exhausted from working all day and then driving into the night.

Waking just before 6 AM Saturday morning, Dean checks out and heads to the Sunset Inn restaurant, where he can get a big plateful of food and endless coffee. He eats quickly and makes good time, getting on I-80 at Joliet just before Saturday morning traffic really gets going. Unfortunately, the drive along Lake Michigan gets bogged down with travelers and he ends up not arriving at Lisa’s house until after noon. Damn time zones, without the switch to Eastern, it would still be morning.

When he knocks on the door, Lisa answers with barely an acknowledgment of his presence, merely throwing open the door and yelling up the stairs for Ben before disappearing around a corner. Dean is used to the dismissive behavior by now and closes the door behind him. With a quick look around the living room to notice she’s gotten a new couch since he was here last, he heads for the kitchen in hopes that there might be coffee. There is, and he pours himself a mug. Looking out the back window, he can tell the yard needs mowing. _Not my business_ , he tells himself, and takes a sip, realizing Lisa used the flavored stuff for this batch. _Probably knowing I’d be here and would want normal coffee_ , he grumbles internally, rinsing the mug out in the sink.

Lisa rounds the corner of the living room to yell up the stairs again, before facing Dean. He knows what’s coming next, having done this before.

“Remember Ben needs to be back by July 11 for sports camp. And don’t let him eat too much junk food, he walks all over you when you get him. And for God’s sake, no R-rated movies! The last time—”

“I know, I know. You only told me about the camp every time you called or emailed to make sure I’d pick him up on time. And he doesn’t walk all over me, Lisa. If I had more time with him, then maybe—”

Her finger is up in his face then. “NO. You don’t get to pull that card. I raised him just fine without you, and you wouldn’t have even known he was your son if—”

He swats the finger out of his face, and leans over her. “Exactly. I had to find out by sheer accident. What the hell? I know we weren’t really a thing, but a phone call would have—”

Hands on her hips, she turns to stare out the window. “Would have done what, Dean? Gone screaming for the hills? Claimed he wasn’t yours? Tried to do the ‘honorable thing’?”

Dean is trying his best to not lash out at her, and he digs his nails into his palms.  

“Besides,” Lisa continues, “We did try for a family after you found out. And we saw how that went.”

And now Dean feels like shit, because he knows it’s because of his injuries that life was as hard for them as it was. A man didn’t just come back from war like that and aim for domesticity with a ready-made family and get it right on the first go. But then indignation flares in his chest, because his injuries weren’t his fault.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have enlisted if I’d known about Ben,” Dean rasps, “I could have been a better father from the beginning, lord knows I practically raised Sam—”

A loud thump from the doorway makes him turn to see Ben standing there, arms crossed and his backpack at his feet.  

“I’ll be out in the car,” Ben says, scooping up the backpack and grabbing his skateboard on the way out. “And don’t take too long!” he calls over his shoulder.

Deflated, Dean looks back at Lisa. “I still wish I could get more time with him.”

Lisa sighs, pressing her fingers between her eyes. “You know why, Dean. Between school, and everything else he has going, there’s not enough time for him to go visit you that often.” She lowers her hand and looks straight into his eyes. “And you know the other reason.”

Yeah, he knew. It was the final straw that brought down the house of cards they’d been trying to live under. After all the shit he’d seen in the Sandbox, he came back with a wounded arm and PTSD. He had been living with Lisa and Ben for over a year by then and he had just come back from a frustrating physical therapy session where he had been told he would always have nerve damage in his left arm. Add that with trying to find a job that would pay decent that he could do with a gimp limb, and he was frustrated. So maybe he’d had a drink. Or two.

He and Lisa were already struggling with his issues, and that night Ben had gotten mouthy about... hell, he can’t even remember what. He does remember slamming the boy up against the wall and pressing his good arm to his throat, before Lisa yanked him off the kid. That was two years ago. He was trying hard to show that it would never happen again, and getting a whole month with Ben was a testament to that fact. But it still hurt that he had been the thing to bring it all down. He never wanted to hurt either Ben or Lisa. He’d just snapped.

But Lisa wanted him out of the house after that. He’d gone to Bobby’s, began working at the junkyard, and then started managing the apartments well over a year ago. He was settled, and hadn’t had a major loss of control like that since. Taking a deep breath, he gives her a small, defeated smile.

“Better get on the road, especially if I want to get up in the morning to see Sam.”

Lisa places a hand on his good arm. “Be careful, and say hi to Sam for me.”

With a nod, Dean turns and walks out the door.

In the car, Dean turns to Ben, looking him over. He really is getting taller, and his dark hair and eyes are all his mom’s. But the way his hair curls, his nose and cheeks, those are Dean. He rubs a hand through the boy’s hair, to get it swatted away and bitchfaced. Sometimes he wonders if this is what he would have been like as a kid if he’d gotten to live a normal life. With an affectionate smile, he starts the Impala, feeling the rumble of her engine.

“So,” he starts, “Which way you wanna take back? Could drive through scenic Galena, or see the birthplace of James T. Kirk? Pass by a museum or two?”

Ben just shrugs, pulling a PS3 out of his backpack. “I don’t care. Just take the interstate.”

And Dean does, staying on I-80 after the Lake, all the way to Iowa City. After that, he gets back on 380 and rides the same route in as he took out. He tries to make conversation, but Ben seems to fight that the whole way, sighing heavily when Dean interrupts his game, and eventually putting in earbuds. They stop more often than Dean normally would for rest stops and snacks, which makes them pull in a little after midnight.

When they get into the apartment, Dean gives Ben the bed, and takes the couch. If he could get his son more often, he might consider moving into a 2-bedroom unit, but this works for now. While Ben gets settled in Dean uses the bathroom quickly, ready for sleep before Ben has even pulled out his toothbrush.

“You’re grown now, so I’m not gonna supervise you getting ready for bed. But you know what you need to do, all the stuff your mom would yell at you for. I’m pooped from driving, and we’re gonna see Sammy in the morning, so be ready to crawl outta bed before nine.” He scrubs his fingers quickly through Ben’s hair. “Night, buddy.”

Dean gets as comfortable as he can on his second-hand sofa, making sure the alarm on his phone is set, and soon passes out.

\---

In the morning, Dean drags Ben out of bed at what he considers a reasonable hour, regardless of how much the boy complains. Stuffing the grumpy teen into his car, they go meet Sam and his very pregnant wife for breakfast. Dean would have preferred the Pancake House, but Sam insisted they meet at the Phillips Avenue Diner. The parking lot is full, but he finds a spot on the street. The diner’s old-fashioned and shining with chrome, and the inside’s all lit up with neon. They find Sam and Jess over near the back corner. All six-foot-five of Sam stands up to give Dean and Ben a crushing hug, and his wife Jess stays perched in her seat, smiling with a hand on her belly. If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d say the girl was having twins. Seriously, he knows his brother’s a moose, but should a woman’s belly get that big?

“Are you sure you’re due in August, Jess?” Dean jokes.

Sam digs him in the ribs. Snickering, Dean takes the inside of the booth and Ben slides in next to him. It’s really good to see Sam this happy, though. He and Jess met at Stanford, but after their father passed away, they broke up for a while. Dean can’t believe it took them over three years to get back together, and then another two to get married. But then again, the stalker that followed Sam around for a while had kind of made things difficult. What was her name? Britney? Becca? Oh well, they haven’t heard from her in a while. Although, they were worried that she might have decided to show up to the wedding in November, so they had a small ceremony down in Vegas, just close family and friends.

But now, here’s his big, successful, hair-too-long younger brother, happily married to a wonderful, beautiful woman who loves him to death. With a kid on the way. Dean looks over at his own son, thinking about how he’s missed most of the boy’s life. First, because he didn’t even know he got Lisa pregnant, then because they couldn’t make it work.

The arrival of the waitress snaps him out of his musings, and he prevents Ben from ordering coffee. Everyone orders, and Dean gets the Farmer’s Scrambler, one of the biggest things on the menu. Sam eyeballs him, like he’s waiting for Dean to have a heart attack right on the spot. Dean makes sure to enjoy every single bit with relish, vocally. He doesn’t even care if he embarrasses Ben. Which he does.

After breakfast, they take the trolley to Falls Park for a short walk. Ben is a little irritated at the slower pace to accommodate Jess, but he has his PSP with him anyway, so he stays entertained at least. Dean takes the opportunity to catch up with Sam.

“So, how’s things at the big law office?”

Sam shrugs and watches as Jess goes to lean on the railing near the falls. “About as much as you’d expect, I guess. My boss is nice and all, but…” He purses his lips, thinking of the right words to say.

“Oh, c’mon Sammy. You don’t have to be all P.C. with me. Just tell me like it is.”

Sam glances around before leaning in a little closer to Dean. “He’s weird.”

Dean looks at him sideways, “Like, Lady Gaga weird, or dude with his van parked near the playground weird?”

“No, it’s just… The guy likes to play office pranks. Like, for an entire month, he kept moving another lawyer’s car to a different parking spot, or turned it around to face the other way. And then one day, he completely covered it in Post-it notes!”

When Dean chuckles, Sam gives him a bitchface.

“There was the time he switched all the office phone handsets with bananas. And, the new intern? Kevin? On his first day, his desk looked like a crime scene, with police tape, outline, and everything.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad. What else is so weird about him?”

“Well, he’s always eating candy. Like, there is almost always something in his mouth, all hours of the day.”

Dean just shrugs.

“And he flirts with almost everything that has two legs, including me, Dean. His wife always thinks he’s cheating on her, and they have these epic arguments in his office before…” his face gets red, “making up, LOUDLY, in his office.”

Shaking his head and grinning at his brother’s embarrassment, Dean asks, “If you don’t like it, why do you work there then?”

It’s Sam’s turn to shrug. “That’s the thing, he actually does a lot of good. Gabriel designed Guardian Angels as a law firm that helps people who really need it. He takes mostly family cases, and isn’t afraid of pulling some pro bono work against someone who’s being a real douche bag.”

They’ve stopped to let Jessica sit on a bench, and Dean leans against the railing of the boardwalk overlooking the falls. “So, he’s a little crazy, but otherwise a nice guy?” He shrugs, “If it doesn't bother you bad enough to quit, pull a few pranks back.”

“Like what? I don’t want to get fired.”

With a smirk, Dean winks at his brother. “Mix Skittles, M&Ms and Reeses Pieces together in a bowl on his desk. Take a box of Mike and Ikes and swap all the red ones out with Hot Tamales.”

“That’s not so bad,” Sam says.

“Oh, I can get more devious than that, Sammy.”

“I remember,” Sam says with a sideways look at Dean, thinking of all the pranks they used to pull on each other when they were younger. “I’ll keep those in mind, though.”

It doesn’t take long before Jess is ready to head back home with swollen ankles and an aching lower back. Ben’s absorbed in a videogame and Dean asks him if he wants to see a movie. When all he gets is a noncommittal shrug, they head over to the Cinemark by I-29.

The Avengers is still out, but Ben’s seen that, as well as Battleship and Men in Black 3. Luckily, he hasn’t gotten the chance to see any of the new releases yet, but when Dean asks if he wants to see Prometheus, he just gets a mumbled “I dunno” along with a shrug.

With a sly grin Dean says, “We can always go see Madagascar 3.”

Ben sits up straight, finally putting down his PSP and says, “Prometheus sounds good!”

They get in for the first showing of the day, and settle in to watch the movie. Dean’s having a hard time connecting with Ben, and he’s not sure what he can do about it.  As the movie starts, he tries to push out his worries and just watch the movie, ridiculous plotholes and all.

******

Castiel is concerned about the growing pudge around his midsection. He has always been in decent shape, and while he was never particularly vain about his looks, he knows he used to draw a lot of attention. Not that he wants to draw attention to himself now, but… both his sedentary lifestyle and his medication have made him gain weight. While he has been trying to choose healthy, low-calorie meals, he’s still getting thicker around the middle.

Maybe he should see about getting a treadmill. When he suggests this to Anna, she scoffs at the idea and suggests he goes on walks outside instead. Outside. Where he might have to talk to people. When he voices his concern, she simply points out that there are certain types of day when there are fewer people, and he can simply walk around the apartment complex where he can easily get home if he becomes too stressed. During his weekly session, his therapist agrees with Anna.

This is how Castiel ends up walking the outer edges of the apartment complex property, avoiding parking and common areas. The first time, he went out in the early morning, right after dawn. On his walk, he found a few small branches blown down from trees, and picked them up. Encouraged by the lack of people trying to talk to him, he tried again around mid-day. This time, he goes by all the gardens, often stopping to watch the bees as they crawled into flowers, spreading pollen and gathering food for the hive.

He makes it a habit to do two daily walks, one just after sunrise, another around midday. On his walks, he can’t help but pick up the occasional piece of garbage, or a fallen branch here and there. The gardens, when he stops, he plucks a weed here, a wilted flower there. True, he doesn’t get much exercise with the slower pace, but he can feel his stomach and back muscles getting a little workout from all the bending. On days when he doesn’t go out in the morning, he tries to get in a late evening walk.

Sometimes, if all the people are gone, he’ll stop by the pool and watch the water for a while. He could bring a book here and read, or maybe play solitaire right by the water. Castiel is unsure if he will actually get rid of the excess around his waist, but being outside does seem to be helping with his moods, so maybe if he keeps it up they’ll decrease his medication again? The few times he has encountered people, he has simply turned around and gone the other way. Anna finds Castiel’s new habit encouraging.

***

The first week that Dean has Ben is a little trying, because no matter what, he can’t seem to please the boy. On Monday, Dean has some paperwork to do, so he leaves him in the apartment with the X-Box and a stack of games. Ben complains because it’s not a Playstation 3. They go out for lunch, and when they get back, Dean needs to mow the lawn. This time, Ben grumbles that there’s no X-Box Live.

While he’s out on the John Deere, Dean begins to relax a little. The sun is warm and there’s a cool breeze, and Benny’s handling all the heavy stuff. That should make him feel a little guilty, but it means more time with Ben, if he could actually get the boy to open up to him. As Dean swings around the east side of the property, he sees that Cas guy poking around in the flower garden. The man is wearing those white pajamas and trenchcoat again, and the garden soil has darkened the lower edge of his coat where he keeps bending down. As Dean gets closer, Cas startles, looking up and scuffling toward his patio.

When Dean reaches the garden, he sees it’s neat and weeded, with no dead flowers visible. Looking up, he can see Cas peeking out from behind the vertical blinds at his sliding glass door. He’s been meaning to keep an eye on the guy since Anna said he had issues, so Dean kills the engine of the mower and hops off. Waving as he steps onto the patio, he knocks on the sliding glass. After a moment, the door opens a couple of inches, and he can see wide blue eyes staring back at him.

“Yes?” says the gravelly voice that belongs to those eyes.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

Those eyes narrow at the question. “ _It_ isn’t going anywhere. Why do you ask?”

Dean wants to chuckle, but he’s afraid the guy might be serious. “Well, you just recently moved in, just want to make sure you’re finding everything okay.”

The eyes tilt just a bit, and Dean can see a lock of hair. “I haven’t had any trouble locating anything in the apartment, thank you.”

He has to suck his lips in and bite them to keep from laughing, because that wasn’t quite what he meant. “I mean, how are you liking living here? Have any problems?”

A bit of chin juts out from the blinds. “I have no complaints, and I find  the location so far to be… relaxing. I’m sure if there were any issues you would have heard from Anna by now.”

Dean likes the way the guy talks, all deep-voiced and educated sounding. After a pause, he realizes they’re just staring at each other through the blinds. Then he remembers the reason he stopped in the first place.

“So, uh. I noticed the garden here’s been kept all neat and stuff. Has that been you?”

There’s a slight frown with the response, “I apologize if I’m imposing, and I don’t wish to make you feel you are an inadequate caretaker. But I have been taking it upon myself during my walks to help maintain the gardens and pick up any fallen twigs and other detritus from the lawn.”

Wow. That explains why the yard’s been looking so good lately. “Oh no, I appreciate it, as long as you know you don’t need to. But yeah, thanks Cas.”

And he can swear he almost sees a smile from the guy.

“You’re welcome, Dean.”

After another pause where they simply look at each other, Dean realizes he has work to do.

“So, I should go…” He indicates the mower over his shoulder with his thumb. And then Cas shuts the door, letting the blinds swing back into place.

\---

Throughout the rest of the week, the only thing Dean can get Ben to do, other than play video games and ride his skateboard in the parking lot, is to go out to eat. Dean’s always been a pretty good cook, but Ben just picks at the meals he makes. It’s Thursday and after receiving yet another set of shrugs over questions about dinner, he finally gives up and orders pizzas, then invites Benny over, asking him to bring beer.

The two Bens actually get along pretty well, and they all end up playing a first-person-shooter together. After a while though, the two grown men leave the teen to his game, and they hang out on the patio with their beers. By the time Dean has finished an entire beer and gotten his frustrations off his chest, he’s exhausted. Benny pats him on the shoulder and sighs.

“It kinda makes me glad I never had any of my own.”

“Hey!”

“Aww, you know I’m just kiddin’. Besides, I’m sure this is one of those phases they’re always talkin’ about. It’ll pass?” When Benny raises his eyebrows at that last comment, Dean can’t help but chuckle.

“I hope so, but it’s not like I get a lot of time with him, you know?”

“One day at a time, brother.” Benny holds out a freshly opened beer, and Dean accepts it gladly.


	3. Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: More PTSD/Mental issues, physical injury

Friday afternoon, Dean sees some teenagers hanging around the southwest corner of the property. The west side runs along Ellis Road, and the south side is a housing development; across Ellis is farmland. He tries to give the kids the benefit of the doubt when he sees a car parked on the side of the road, but as they spot him coming closer, they quickly take off. When he gets to where they were parked, he notices the littered beer bottles and cans, along with a couple of crumpled-up fast food wrappers and bags. Great. Teenagers driving around in the afternoon, inebriated. Hoping no one gets hurt tonight, he picks up what he can before heading back to the office.

Saturday morning  Dean drags Ben to the family park just up the road for the city-sponsored fishing they have every Saturday all summer. Ben rolls his eyes when Dean hands him a bucket of bait and a pole, but they find a good-looking spot in the shade and throw in their lines, as Dean talks about the finer points of fishing. They hang around for a couple of hours, until Ben’s dramatic sighs of boredom start to drive Dean crazy. But he feels he makes progress when the boy agrees to hoagies made at home instead of having to go out. After lunch, he encourages Ben to go and hang out by the pool.

Dean likes most of the people that live in the apartments, and gets along well with many of them. Their pool isn’t very large but it’s busy on the weekends, as people try to keep cool and relax on their days off. Today is no exception, and he has to pull out a couple of spare lounge chairs so they’ll have a place to sit. They find a spot in the corner, and set up next to the Carter family.

Brian’s a nice guy, and they start up a conversation as Ben tries to make eyes at Kate, a brunette girl who’s going to be a senior in high school, while she reapplies sunscreen. _And, that’s my son_ , Dean thinks, as Ben tries to impress the girl by doing a cannonball as close as possible. Luckily the boy gets quickly distracted by Aaron, an older kid who likes Ben enough to hang out with him. The dark-skinned boy has cut his hair short for the summer, opting against the curly mop of hair he’d been sporting last time he saw him.

After a few more hellos, Dean finally settles into his lounge chair with a library copy of _Fight Club_. He liked the movie, so the book is something to help occupy his time. As he settles into a comfortable position, he looks at the gradient of tanned to paler skin on his forearms. This is one of the few occasions Dean will actually wear a t-shirt, although he still orients his chair facing left so not everyone has to see the scars that trail past the sleeve. He normally doesn’t do shorts, either, but this is an opportunity to get rid of the pasty white-boy glow he’s got going, even if it means he’ll be even more freckly later.

After just getting settled into the story he’s reading, a shadow cast across him gets his attention. Looking up, Dean sees Jenny, a pretty blonde who loves baking. Her hair’s pulled up in a bun, and she’s wearing a red bikini and yellow tie-on skirt. Mmmmm… He knows he’s not supposed to do anything with the residents, but…

“Hi, Dean, how are you?” Jenny’s perky voice cuts through his train of thoughts.

He closes his book and grins widely at her. “Oh, doing even better now that I see you.”

While she makes a shy gesture at his remark, he sees the container in her hands, and knows why she came up to him.

“I see you’ve been busy again.”

Grinning widely, she pulls the cover off the rectangular plastic container so he can see inside. Almost a dozen cupcakes with golden frosting sit inside.

“Today they’re caramel apple,” she whispers conspiratorially.

He winks, “You know what I like,” and takes a cupcake and a napkin. “You mind if I grab another, for my son?”

“Oh, be my guest! I have more inside. You have a son?” She looks around the pool, “Where is he?”

Pointing to the far side where Ben and Aaron are having a sword fight with water noodles, he says, “The one getting his butt kicked over there. Hey, Ben!” Dean waves the boys over. When they run up dripping and smiling he says, “Ben, meet Miss Klein, who has just offered us cupcakes.”

While Ben is momentarily stunned by the way the woman fills her  bikini, Aaron takes advantage of the silence.

“Hi, Jenny. May I have one too?”

“Of course, and take one for your dad.”

Grinning widely, he grabs two cupcakes, thanks Jenny and tells Ben he’ll see him later before dashing off with his sugary loot.

The loss of his traitorous friend snaps Ben out of his stupor, and grabs a cupcake for himself, with a smile that just might rival his dad’s in a few years.

“Thanks very much. I’m sure it tastes great.”

With a happy smile, Jenny wrinkles her nose. “You’re so sweet! Well, I better move along, these aren’t going to eat themselves!” And she makes her way around the pool, offering cupcakes to everyone.

Ben stares after her, cupcake forgotten in his hand.

“Hey,” Dean says, getting his attention. “Eat that, before you drop it.”

After the boy gobbles down his cupcake he eyes Dean’s hungrily.

“No.”

“But you’re not-”

“No.”

Dean may not eat it right now, but there’s no way Ben’s going to usurp one of Jenny’s baked goods. Trying to not childishly pout, Ben goes for another cannonball into the pool. As Dean watches Jenny leave the pool area, he thinks, _She will make some poor man very fat and happy_.

When Dean feels he’s gotten as much sun as he can handle without burning, they go back to the apartment for a quick clean up and then out for a grocery run. He’s determined to find things the boy will eat this time. Ben insists on cold cereal for breakfast, and picks out Cocoa Puffs and Peanut Butter Capn’ Crunch. He balks at the suggestion of getting the generic versions. Luckily, the kid has mostly normal teenage tastebuds, and will eat tacos, mac and cheese, hot dogs and hamburgers. But not Dean’s handmade burgers, because “they’re too thick” so they get a box of frozen patties. If Dean had ever been this picky as a child, he’d have starved.

While he’s getting things for himself to eat, he gives Sam a call to make sure they’re still on for tomorrow afternoon, when they’ll have a cookout at his little brother’s place. He promises to bring a pie, and they chat briefly about what beer to bring before he finishes his shopping and enlists Ben into helping haul things into and out of the car. After they get home and get everything put away, he has Ben help by cooking the mac and cheese. Hey, the boy’s thirteen, he should at least be able to boil water, right? Dean grills them some hot dogs.

They pile up in front of the TV just in time for a movie to start on the SyFy Channel. Tonight’s terrible B-movie? Stonehenge Apocalypse. It’s so bad, but it’s better than most of the made-for-TV movies the channel makes, and Dean enjoys making fun of it with Ben. Who knew watching a movie could be a bonding experience?

After the dishes are washed, Dean decides that a walk might be a good idea. Just around the apartment complex. Ben, when given the option, obviously chooses to sit back, already turning on the X-Box. It’s about fifteen till nine, and the sun is low in the sky, casting long shadows and  infusing everything with golden light. He almost doesn’t notice the figure sitting at a small table by the pool, but as he gets closer, he sees a familiar head of dark hair, and the trenchcoat. He can’t imagine how sweaty the dude must get sitting around in that thing all the time.

Dean is quiet during his approach, and Cas is facing away, so he hears the strange conversation the man is apparently having with… himself.

“—all the angels that died in the war, not enough to deal with the demons. Spread too thin. The incarnation of War has been busy, Syria is in an uproar, Mexico is burning. The apocalypse is looming, but not like the Mayan calendar says. And then there’s Burma. Must divide what’s left of the forces to send there, and of course we must hold in Afghanistan, Pakistan. Have to hold the line. And the signs. All the interrupted, destructive weather. Too many demons…”

As Dean comes closer, he sees the man is playing checkers with himself, spinning the board around for each turn. When he opens the gate it squeaks, and Cas whips his head around with a deer-in-headlights expression. But Dean simply holds up his hands, palms out, to show he’s not a threat.

In as non-threatening tone as he can muster, he says, “Hey there buddy, you playing checkers?”

In spite of the large coat, he can see how tense the man is, fingers clasping the edges of his sleeves, the tight set of his jaw. Cas continues to stare at him as he slowly takes a step forward.

“Just saw you sitting by yourself out here, wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”

A subtle shift of the man’s shoulders, and he seems to relax a fraction.

“I am fine, Dean. I just needed some time outdoors, and there wasn’t anybody here so…” He shrugs with one shoulder as his body language relaxes just a bit more.

By now Dean is standing across from Cas, staring down at the checkerboard. “Isn’t the game more fun when you play against someone else?”

Cas’ eyes flick to the board and back up to Dean. “I suppose it would be more of a challenge, yes.”

This draws a small smile from Dean. “You want, I can sit down and play with.”

Once again, Cas’ eyes flick down to the board and back up at Dean, expression almost flat except for the smallest twitch of his lips in what might almost be a smile. “I’m amenable to that suggestion.”

So Dean slowly pulls up a chair to the table as Cas resets the board. Dean is offered the first move, and they start the game without speaking for a while. It doesn’t take long before Cas wins the game, and Dean suggests switching colors. The next game, Cas goes first, and Dean still loses, but not as quickly. The sun has set and the security lights have started coming on, illuminating them in the orange glow of sodium lamps as the light fades from the sky.

It’s interesting, how completely at ease Dean seemed to feel while playing (and losing) a couple rounds of checkers with Cas. He didn’t even realize how dark it had been getting until the lights came on.

“I, ah, it’s kinda dark, so I better head back.”

“Yes, Anna will probably start worrying if I’m not back soon as well.” Cas stands up and collects the game pieces.

Nodding, Dean gets up and heads toward the pool area’s gate, then stops and turns around, facing Cas. “So, have a good night then Cas.”

The man turns, inclines his head and responds. “And you as well, Dean.”

While Dean walks the short trip back to his apartment, he thinks about his recent interactions with Cas. He obviously has something going on up in that noggin of his, but he doesn’t seem to be a threat to anybody, he just has some… interesting ideas.

\---

Sunday afternoon Dean and Ben spend lazily at Sam and Jess’ place, a lovely old house near McKennan Park. The backyard has a deck and a small pool, and Ben has been diving for dollar coins while Dean mans the grill. Bobby was able to make it, and the old man is showing off his farmer’s tan while he slowly floats around the pool and throws the coins back in. It’s almost time to eat and Sam is helping Jess finish the potato salad before they all settle into chairs at the table warming in the afternoon sun.

After dinner, they all enjoy warm cherry pie with ice cream, and Jess has Ben feel the baby kick, which freaks him out a little. It freaks Dean out a little too, when he can see her belly shift from across the table.

“You sure she’s not gonna give birth to an alien, Sammy?” He teases, sipping on a beer as he tilts his own chair back on two legs.

He receives a half-hearted bitchface for his efforts, and Jess jokingly promises to let him know if what pops out isn’t human. She picked up on Dean’s humor a long time ago and doesn’t let it faze her. Bobby still smacks him upside the head, making the front legs of his chair slap back down onto the deck.

“Shut up, ya dern idjit.”

Surrounded by family and full of pie, Dean settles on the couch with Bobby to watch sports after helping clean up the dishes. They both fall asleep, snoring lightly. When Dean wakes from his food-coma, he finds Sam, Jess, and Ben playing poker, using hard candies as currency. Dean watches, contented, as Sam easily wins or purposefully loses a hand to either his wife or his nephew. Both Dean and Sam learned how to hustle cards early in life, and it’s nice to know they don’t really need the skill now, although Sam probably uses his skill at reading poker faces as a lawyer.

As Dean drives home in the evening, he watches as Ben rests his head against the window drowsily. Today was a good day, and it makes a spot inside his chest ache, wishing he could have more days like this. He wants more time with his son, and the rest of his family. It makes him wish things had worked out with Lisa, but he knows that ship has sailed. He was never really in love with her, it had been mostly for Ben. When they arrive back at the apartment, Dean prods Ben inside and then sits on his patio for a while, watching the light shift toward sunset, and then the fireflies as they begin their phosphorescent blinking. He knows something’s missing in his life, and he’s not quite sure how to find it.

\---

Monday, Dean has to call Sheriff Mills. He likes Jody, and they get along well now that Dean’s not drinking heavily anymore. Someone tagged one of the apartments out on the  southwest side, and Dean remembers the teens he had seen hanging out around there earlier in the week. He’s got Bobby out there looking at the damage too, and since he knows Bobby and Jody are kind of sweet on each other, he leaves them alone to go try to dig up some solvents that might take off spray paint without having to replace the vinyl siding.

An hour later, Dean and Benny are desperately using alternative expletives as they try to scrub off the black signs sprayed on the wall. Some of the neighborhood children are watching.

“Fudging teenagers, using gosh-darned Rustoleum on my fudging wall!”

“Hey, I think acetone’s getting it to dissolve a bit!” Benny exclaims hopefully, before he sees it’s also melting the siding. “Aww, shhhingles!”

“Son of a — BISCUIT!” Dean yelps as his hand slips where he’s been scrubbing with a plastic scouring pad, scraping his knuckles. He throws down the pad and tosses his hands in the air, admitting defeat.

“What the hell did they draw, anyway?” He squints and tilts his head, looking at the graffiti. There’s a large circle, with letters and other symbols drawn around the outer edge, and a triangle at the top, almost like a compass, except there are two N’s off to either side.

“Does that look like a five in the middle to you?”

Benny backs up as well, “I dunno, maybe it’s supposed to be a ‘g’?”

“Either way, Bobby has some spare siding panels at the junkyard. You wanna drive me over there, I’ll load them up in your truck.”

Benny nods and they pick up the bottles of solvent, brushes, scrubbers and rags. They take their time at Bobby’s and stop for lunch on the way back.

******

Around noon, Castiel takes his mid-day walk, glad that whatever caused the sheriff to show up has quieted down. When he rounds the corner of the tagged building, he sees what was drawn and freezes, recognizing the symbol.

“No, they’ve found me.”

In a panic, he hurries home, locks the door, and closes every curtain and blind in the apartment. He locks himself in his bedroom, drawing a pentagram, with symbols in between the points, on a towel which he places under his door. Then he curls up on the floor next to his bed, his knees to his chest, where he rocks back and forth for hours, almost catatonic. When Anna comes home, she finds him like that, terror in his eyes. Quickly, she comes back with a glass of water and a Xanax, which she gets him to reluctantly swallow. She presses his head to her chest and rocks with him, tells him to breathe, and Castiel slowly starts to relax.

“What happened, sweetie?” Anna whispers softly into his hair.

“B-banishing sigil on a wall… It was there, they found me. I was foolish to think I could hide.”

He begins hyperventilating, and Anna grasps his face, turning it towards her. She presses their foreheads together.

“C’mon, shhh… They didn’t find you. I’m sure that wasn’t what you saw, just something similar. Besides, we’ve talked about this, they can’t send you away with a drawing. You are a human, my cousin, my adopted brother, and you won’t go anywhere as long as you calm down.”

As the effects of the medication take hold, Castiel starts breathing normally. Anna pulls him up to sit on the bed and remove his trenchcoat, which he hadn’t even bothered to take off. She gets him to explain what he saw and where, and she leaves him with the rest of the glass of water to call Dean and find out what really happened.

***

Dean is a little shocked to have Anna calling him and asking about the graffiti, because she wasn’t even home when they found it.

“Yeah, we found some tagging this morning, had the sheriff come and look at it. But it’s already been cleaned up. Why do you ask?”

Anna explains that Castiel found it during his walk and it reminded him of something he’d seen before.

“Then maybe he should talk to the sheriff, find out who’s doodling on our walls,” he says, exasperated.

“Um, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” she sounds nervously reluctant.

Oh. Well, maybe not, then. After thanking Anna for calling, Dean hangs up, wondering just what the hell was drawn on that wall.

Tuesday morning, Dean finds more graffiti on the privacy fence that separates the apartment complex and the housing development. This one’s not as big, and will be easier to paint over. He calls Bobby and Sheriff Jody again, also emailing them the photos he snaps with his phone. This time, the doodle kind of reminds him of that symbol for the artist formerly known as Prince.

He’s determined to catch the little shits tagging the place up. Dean parks his Baby out on the roadside by that southwest corner overnight in the hopes of either catching or scaring them off. He wakes up in the front seat when dawn breaks, stiff and sore. The property is graffiti free, but he can’t spend another night like that.

Wednesday’s weather is wacky again, with cooler temperatures and sporadic storms that offer little rain. Since overcast days seem to equal fewer visitors, Dean and Benny have the time to come up with a plan to take turns patrolling the grounds at night, and take naps in the afternoon to help them stay awake overnight. Even Ben seems to get in on it, helping them pack snacks and recommends some supposedly ninja moves he picked up from one of his video games. Dean puts his foot down when the boy suggests actually accompanying them on their rounds, because he doesn’t know what he’d do if the kid actually got hurt, let alone what _Lisa_ would do to _Dean_.

Dean gets the first shift, and after sunset he patrols the entire west side of the property, alternating trips between the buildings when he gets bored. Unfortunately, he forgot about the sprinklers, set to go off at eleven. After getting completely soaked, he stops by the apartment for a change of clothes and waits a half hour for the cycle to finish.

As he patrols back toward the southwest edge, baseball bat in hand, he sees a group of figures moving in the dark. He tries sneaking up to them, until he hears the telltale hiss of spray paint.

“Hey!” He points the baseball bat at them as he begins running in their direction. “Hey, you!”

When he’s two buildings down, they notice him and take off. But then he slips as his foot hits a dip in the ground, and he collapses onto the wet grass with a thump, and the air whooshes out of him at the pain of his knee twisting unnaturally.

“Hey! You come back here,” he wheezes, as he rolls over onto his back. Something dashes past him, and he looks up to see someone in a billowing trenchcoat running after the taggers, chanting what sounds like… Latin? Groaning, he clasps his knee which is now throbbing. _Fuuuuuck_ , he tore something in there, he knows it.

Dean’s not sure how long he lies there, curled up on his side, hissing in pain, when the trenchcoated wonder stands before him, white pajamas almost glowing in the darkness.

“Cas?” He groans, not believing the sight before him, as the man kneels to check him over. This feels strangely familiar.

“You’re injured. Should I call an ambulance?”

With a handful of trenchcoat, Dean uses the man as leverage to get into a sitting position. Through clenched teeth, he says, “Nah, gimme some ice and an Ace bandage, I’ll be fine.”

The dark haired man stares at him a moment, then begins feeling around the knee and down his calf. The guy looks like he’s done this before, but it _hurts_.

“Shit, damn dude, quit manhandling me and help me get back to my apartment.”

Cas frowns and squints at him. “It’s highly likely you have torn ligaments, possibly even a damaged meniscus. You should be getting treatment.”

Dean closes his eyes, clamps his jaw, and breathes through his nose for a moment. “Can we please get me off the wet grass first?”

“Oh, of course. Here.”

The man helps him up, knowing exactly how to assist and support him as they make their way across the dark, damp grass. Dean wonders if Cas did this a lot with his fellow Rangers. He has never been so thankful that he lives on the ground floor as Cas helps him through the doorway and onto the couch. Groaning as he’s lowered, the noise attracts the attention of Ben, who comes out of the bedroom and is stunned for a moment to see the stranger with his dad.

“Dean, are you okay?” Ben eyeballs the man fussing over Dean, not quite sure what to do.

“Just, _AH_!” Cas gently lifts his leg to settle a cushion under the knee, “Twisted my knee. This guy found me and dragged me home. Cas, this is my son Ben. Ben, this is Cas, one of the residents.”

The two nod at each other, and then Cas says, “I need ice. And a towel.”

Ben rushes off to the kitchen, then quickly returns, twisting a kitchen towel in his hands. “All outta ice, what else can we use?”

Cas looks up from trying to gingerly push up the leg of Dean’s jeans. “Frozen vegetables?”

The boy comes back with a large bag of frozen corn. “Will this do?”

Nodding, Cas directs him to wrap it in the towel and place it on Dean’s knee. “Dean, do you have that Ace bandage you mentioned earlier?”

Gritting his teeth, Dean replies, “Under the bathroom sink.” As Cas stands up, Dean grabs his sleeve. “Hey, there’s some Ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet, too.”

While Cas is digging around in the bathroom, Benny comes busting in. “What the hell, brother? Can’t even do a night watch any more without getting injured?”

Dean chuckles, “Up yours.”

“Well, you must not be hurtin’ too bad, if you still got a sense of humor.”

Benny takes over holding the frozen bag of produce to Dean’s knee. Neither Dean nor Benny notice Cas hesitate at the entrance to the living room. He somehow manages to pass the bottle and bandage to Ben, ghosting out the front door without drawing their attention. It’s not until Dean has managed to get out of his jeans and into a pair of basketball shorts, and has his knee wrapped, that he realizes the man is missing.

“Hey, where’d Cas go?”

Benny looks at him with a wrinkled brow. “Who?”

******

Castiel has tried to get over the shock of seeing the banishing sigil, but it still bothers him. Anna said that they got rid of it, but what about those that placed it there? He knows he shouldn’t, but it’s been getting more difficult lately to not let his thoughts drift to the topic of demons. The apocalypse is what everyone seems to be talking about on television and online. With the increasing conflict worldwide, combined with the strange weather patterns, how could anybody ignore… _NO_ , he tells himself, you have to stop this. Demons don’t exist, the world isn’t ending, it’s just people… People doing these horrible things… It was a man that commanded you to do what you did… People that you did those things to… People that you killed…

He has to stop this. Knowing where those types of thoughts lead, he forces himself to think of something else. The garden just outside. Warm sunshine. Bees, buzzing around the flowers and collecting pollen and nectar. He should go outside. Before he does, he goes to the bathroom and takes one of the quartered segments of Xanax Anna has prepared for when these types of situations happen.

It’s almost mid-day, so he forces himself to start his daily walk. At every garden, he picks dead flowers and weeds, even though he can’t help but jump at every yelp and splash coming from the pool. As he approaches the southwest corner, he tenses. When he looks at where the sigil had been, all he sees are sections of vinyl siding that are just slightly off in color. The old ones have been carried away. When he reaches the fence, he can see where something new has been painted over, something smaller. He touches the fresh paint, wondering what symbol hides beneath.

By the time Castiel returns home, he has decided to be proactive. He used to be a soldier, and he refuses to hide and be terrorized by such actions. Regardless of who -or what- might be doing this, he should help try to stop it.

That night, he sneaks out after Anna has gone to sleep, just to check on things. As he approaches the western edge, he can see a parked vehicle. Stopping, he crouches and watches the figure inside, who seems to be merely sitting there. As another vehicle passes by and its headlights wash over the landscape, he recognizes the shiny black and chrome shape of the apartment manager’s Impala. So Dean is out here trying to stop them, too. And, he was a Marine. He ponders keeping the man company for a moment, but the thought of trying to make conversation with someone considered “normal”... Quietly slipping back home, he swallows the medication he should have taken during his regular bedtime. While waiting on the medication to work, he stares at the ceiling and tries to keep paranoid thoughts at bay.

Castiel wakes up later than normal and is irritable. He only just manages to get up before Anna, and is eating breakfast in his usual spot by the sliding glass door, watching another unseasonably cool day, overcast and stormy. Anna is filling in for another nurse on vacation, so will be at work longer than usual. She reminds him that if he needs anything, all he needs to do is call, and leaves with a peck to his cheek after she quickly eats her own breakfast.

As the day wears on, it doesn’t improve, and Castiel is stuck inside, watching the clouds, heavy with impending rain. He tries to take his daily walk, but distant thunder seems to be threatening his choice, and he quickly returns, brooding. Once again, his thoughts turn to omens and demons, but instead of anxiety, anger builds. His fingers itch to draw protection wards around the apartment, but he knows what Anna would say about it.

Digging through an art kit Anna bought him in the hopes of keeping his mind occupied, he finds a white crayon and draws tiny protection sigils around the door and window frames of the apartment. Unless you’re looking for them, they’re practically invisible. He would pull up the carpet and paint devil’s traps  and wards on the subflooring as well, but he knows nothing about carpet installation and would probably make a mess. If he is caught doing this, they’ll send him back to a hospital, and that’s the last thing he wants.

By early afternoon, it’s storming again, and Castiel occupies himself by making bread. Anna buys mostly organic foods, so he enjoys making things by hand that she can enjoy, as opposed to all the preservatives they put in pre-packaged foods. Also, kneading the dough by hand relieves the tension he feels as the storm brews outside. He tries to read a book while the dough rises, but every clap of thunder has him on edge, flashes of lightning making him twitch.

By the time the bread has finished baking, the storm has abated. He sets the loaves on the counter to cool and texts Anna that he has made fresh bread. She texts back that she’ll pick up something from the deli and they can have sandwiches for dinner. He naps, and when he wakes up, the clouds have passed and the rest of the evening is clear. When Anna returns home, he slices the bread and assembles sandwiches from the ingredients she has brought.

Late in the evening, Castiel feigns going to sleep, and waits until after the timed lawn watering before heading back out to patrol. He sees Dean and keeps his distance, watching and following the man as he goes about. He notices the enemy before Dean, and slinks closer. But then Dean yells at them, revealing his position, and Castiel quickly drops flat to the ground, hoping to go unnoticed. The enemy bolts, and Dean starts chasing them, with nothing but a baseball bat for a weapon.

“Foolish man,” he hisses, pulling a rosary from the pocket of his trenchcoat as he leaps up and begins pursuit as well. Dean collapses, and Castiel, afraid the enemy is attacking, begins chanting an exorcism as he picks up speed, dashing by the fallen man. He’ll check on him later, after dispersing the trespassers.

_“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.”_

The ground is slippery, and he has to slow down to keep from falling, and the figures ahead of him are getting further away. His voice rises as he continues pursuit, trying to finish the incantation.

_“Ergo, draco maledicte. Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!”_

He stops running, his prey having disappeared into the field across the street. Catching his breath, he quickly returns to check on Dean, making sure he hasn’t been injured too badly. He finds the man huddled on the wet ground, clutching his knee. Training kicks in, and he begins checking over the injured man. He refuses the offer of an ambulance, but when Castiel handles Dean’s knee, he can tell that the man should not be walking on it, and it should be examined as soon as possible. He says as much. At least the man agrees to let Castiel help him get home, and he’s soon assisting him through the door of Dean’s apartment.

A teenager appears through a doorway as he’s settling Dean on the couch, and he’s introduced as Dean’s son. Castiel turns to him and says he needs ice and a towel. All the boy can find is a large bag of frozen corn, and Castiel tells him to wrap it in a kitchen towel and press it carefully to Dean’s rapidly swelling knee. When he asks about a compression bandage, he’s directed to the bathroom with a request for medication.

Castiel finds the bottle of Ibuprofen, and he recognizes the familiar, Ranger candy strength, 800 mg pills. While he’s digging under the sink for the bandage, he hears someone loudly enter the apartment, and he wonders if the demons have returned to exact revenge. But as he peeks around the door, he sees a bear of a man conversing with Dean in a profane but amicable manner. While Dean may trust him, Castiel feels his anxiety return and tries to channel it into something that might help. He passes the medication and bandage off to the boy then surreptitiously sneaks out the front door. Dean is in the hands of people that will care for him, and Castiel needs to see about warding the perimeter. The summer solstice is a powerful time, and with a new moon, it can be dangerous.

Using some decent-sized rocks and a sharpie, Castiel draws warding symbols and buries the stones along the western edge of the property. He also places tiny wardings along the bottom edge of the privacy fence. He drags himself, exhausted, back to his own apartment just as the faintest hints of dawn begin lightening the sky. He doesn’t bother with his nightly medication, especially if he plans on rising anywhere near his normal time to avoid arousing Anna’s suspicion.

He has washed up and crawled into bed, watching the sky outside gradually lighten. Castiel suddenly remembers another situation very much like what occurred tonight, a Marine in Iraq whom he had pulled from a burning  vehicle. It suddenly seems very important to remember the soldier’s name. What was it? Witherspoon? Winkler? A name on a rental contract flashes through his mind, Winchester. No, couldn’t be Winchester… And suddenly, it’s Dean’s face he sees covered in ash, blood, and dirt, eyes glazed in pain and from lack of oxygen. Castiel lies in bed, watching the sky grow progressively lighter, until the sun finally rises, his mind churning with the implications and the sheer improbability of what he is thinking. Dean couldn’t possibly be the same man he saved almost four years ago, could he? 


	4. Injury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: surreal torture,

Benny drives Dean to the emergency room in the morning. He comes back much later in the day with a heavy-duty looking knee brace, crutches, and pain medication. There wasn’t any major damage requiring surgery, but apparently he stressed multiple tendons. He’s going to be wearing the damn brace for two months, if he’s lucky. Dean takes the rest of the week easy, resting at home and forwarding the office calls to his cell. Anything that Benny can help with, he sends him over.

Ben is trying to be a good sport about everything, concerned for his father but frustrated at the immobility. Dean encourages him to spend more time at the complex’s pool, and Ben ends up hanging out with some of the other kids his age. Aaron Birch, the kid he played with at the pool earlier, invites him over for pizza night and after Dean speaks with his dad Darrell, he agrees Ben can stay the night.

When Ben finds out that some kind of boating fair on Sunday at the same park where they went fishing, he’s suddenly very interested when he finds out that Danny Carter is going there with his family. Dean asks if Danny’s older sister Kate will be there, and the ensuing blush confirms his suspicions. He says if Brian and Susan don’t mind putting up with him, he can go. Dean invites Benny over and they watch sports, drink beer and grill burgers.

On Monday, Dean insists that if all he’s going to do is sit and answer the phone, he can do it in the office and get some paperwork done, too. Plus, he has a distraction from the crushing sense of guilt that he can't do at least half of the things he’d planned on while Ben was here, like camping. When he called and told Lisa, she offered to come pick Ben up, but he had adamantly refused, insisting on having the boy around for the full time allowed.

Just after lunch, Dean is reclining in his office chair, leg propped up on a folding chair, when Cas pokes his head in. Dean might not have even noticed the man stopping by, if not for the bell over the door. Cas almost runs away when Dean lifts his head, but he’s waved back in.

“Hey, c’mon in.” Dean’s surprised the guy actually came by on his own account. He wonders if something’s wrong. “Everything alright?”

“I… I don’t wish to interrupt your break…” Dude’s hanging around the door like he’ll bolt at the first opportunity.

“Nah, just waiting for the meds I took with lunch to kick in. Sit down, take a load off.”

Dean shifts gingerly, so that he’s facing the chair Cas ever-so-skittishly sits in.

“So, is there a problem?”

“I just came to see how your injury is healing.” Cas focuses on his knee, which is in one of those braces with the locking joint so he doesn’t move it.

“Yeah, two months outta commission, and that’s if I’m lucky. They’re gonna check it again Wednesday so they can get a look at it without the swelling.”

Weird, Cas is normally all about the eye-lock, but he has yet to even really look him in the face this time.

“Thanks, by the way.”

That gets his attention, and those big, blue eyes lock right on. But the guy has a confused look on his face. And there’s the head tilt.

“For what?”

Dean huffs, “I don’t know why you were out there that night, but I woulda had a hell of a time trying to make it back home if you hadn’t shown up. So yeah, dude, thanks.”

Annnd, now he looks away again.

“It was… I… You’re welcome.”

What? Is the guy actually blushing a little? Or maybe the pain meds are just kicking in a little hard.

“Seriously, dude. Were you a medic before you became a Ranger?”

Cas is playing around with the belt of that damn trenchcoat and speaks with his face down.

“EMT, over in Illinois. Joined the Army after 9/11.”

Dean nods, “So what made you decide to become a Ranger? I mean they’re cool and all, but they’re just a better trained infantry, basically.” Yes, maybe he’s intentionally poking at him a little bit, just to see the reaction.

Cas purses his lips in thought. “I guess my scores were exceptional or something. Actually, I wasn’t a Ranger long. I got transferred to—”

Just then Benny comes clomping in from fixing a leaky kitchen sink. Cas startles and stands up as if he’s about to bolt.

“Hey Cas, I want you to meet our maintenance man.” The guy freezes, and nods slightly. “This is Benny Lafitte, he was in the Marines with me. Benny, this is Castiel Novak.” It’s a mouthful to try to get the dude’s whole name out. Benny holds out his hand to shake, but Cas eyes it distrustfully.

“So this is the crazy aunt resident over in number forty four?” Benny says with a lifted eyebrow.

Dean wants to facepalm, but awkwardly gives Benny’s shin a kick with his good foot instead.

Cas surprises Dean with his response, “I am not your aunt.”

Benny’s smirking, “What? _Really_?”

“I am neither female nor have any possible relation to you.” Cas is keeping a straight face, and Dean thinks the dude’s actually serious.

“Now, you’re kidding me.” Benny’s pushing it now, and Dean just wants this whole disaster over.

“Oh, you two are killing me!” he says, rolling his eyes and swiping a hand down his face.

“Cas,” Dean focuses on the trenchcoated man, “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Feel free to stop by any time.”

Cas nods, wishes him a speedy recovery, and quickly departs with a distrustful glare over his shoulder at Benny as he goes through the doorway.

“Benny,” his eyes lock on the smirking asshole next to him as soon as the door shuts, “Seriously, dude? What the hell?”

The man is full on chuckling now, eyes crinkled and twinkling with humor. “Did you hear what he said?”

“Listen to me, you fucking dick,” Dean hisses, “You gotta watch your mouth! Not just around look-see’s, but the residents too. That shit can get us sued!”

Benny’s shoulders slump. “I’m sorry man, it just slipped out.”

“Just…” Dean sighs deeply. “Watch your shit from now on, alright? I am gonna need you around here now more than ever, and the last thing we want is a damn lawsuit.”

From then on, Cas stops by every day just after lunch. He never stays long, but he always checks on Dean and asks if he needs anything. Dean tries to find out more about Cas, but the man is reluctant to say much about himself. When Dean asks why he always wears the coat, Cas pulls it around himself and says it makes him comfortable. Hey, whatever makes the guy happy.

At the end of the week, Dean has Benny distribute fliers reminding residents of the Singer Gardens Independence Day Picnic, which will start at noon on the Fourth and end about six PM. If this is going to be anything like last year, about half the complex will show up for free burgers and hot dogs. He’s already got the patties and dogs over in Bobby’s deep-freezer at the junkyard, he just needs to pick up drinks, buns, and toppings a couple days before.

After work, Dean drags the two Bens to go see _Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter_. He wanted to go see it opening weekend, but his damn knee hurt too much. They get there before the evening rush and Dean gets the handicapped seat, a double-bench. It’s off to the side more than he likes, but he’s got room to put his stiff leg and crutches in the row instead of getting it tripped on in the main aisle. The movie is fantastic, a great twist on the Civil War and the life of Abraham Lincoln. Yes, it’s cheesy and over-the-top, but it’s supposed to be! There’s plenty of action, axe-swinging, a crazy horse-chase, and the train sequence! All three men leave the movie satisfied, even though Benny grumbles about some of the vampire lore.

Dean leans over to his son and says, “Remember, you never saw this movie.”

Ben looks him straight in the eye and says, “What movie?”

Benny chuckles, “That’s your son, alright.”

\---

It’s hot and dry, with flies buzzing everywhere and the smell of rotting flesh. The red flicker of flame lights the tent he’s in from the outside, and Dean can see figures scattered around on the ground. When he steps forward he hears a squelch and he raises his boot to notice a dark viscous substance oozing from it. Pushing past the tent flap outside, he sees a decimated camp. Charred, guttering vehicle corpses flicker their light over more tents peppered with char marks, bullet holes and splattered blood. There is no sound but for the crackling of flames and the incessant buzzing of flies.

He makes his way through the camp, weapon at the ready. He can see soldiers and civilians alike among the downed bodies, all in various states of decomposition. Toward the edge of Camp, there’s a tent that glows deep red, as if it has been washed in blood and lit brightly from within. As he approaches the tent, there isn’t a single sound coming from it. Leading with the barrel of his weapon, he pushes aside the flap of the tent, and steps inside.

The interior is dimly lit, with a straight-backed chair in the middle with someone strapped to it, and a metal table with a cloth covering something on it. As he steps forward, he hears a familiar nasal laugh. Facing the person in the chair, it’s his company commander, Captain Alastair. The man’s long face sneers up at him.

“Dean. Looks like you have me all to yourself here. How will we pass the time?”

The next thing he knows, he’s no longer wearing full combat gear, and is stripped down to his t-shirt, combat trousers, and boots. He’s holding a serrated knife in his hand.

“You gonna work me over with your scary toys?” The toys I taught you to use?”

Dean angles the blade in the dim light and begins to cut. He flays flesh, cuts tendons, exposes viscera. The whole time there’s the grating laugh of his commander in his ear.

“Come on, Grasshopper. You’re gonna have to get creative to impress me.”

He cuts out the man’s tongue, but he can still hear the words, rattling around in his brain.

“I’m always inside that angsty little noggin of yours.”

He keeps cutting, using the techniques he was taught, blood pooling at his feet, the body before him limp. And still the voice keeps echoing in his head.

“Do you really think this will fix you? Aww, poor Daddy’s girl. You’re sad, sad, sad.”

Suddenly Dean is the one strapped to the chair, Captain Alastair standing before him, whole.

“We had to break you before any of the others. You see, the grunts all look up to their sergeants. Only way to get the dominoes to fall, right? Start with the one at the front of the line.”

The man digs the serrated knife into a pectoral muscle, and Dean can feel the cold metal slicing through. He tries to cry out, but is mute.

“When we win, we'll owe it all to you, Dean Winchester.”

The blade makes agonizing trails along his body, and he can’t close his eyes. He must watch as his skin is peeled back, revealing muscle and tendon, then watch as individual muscle groups are separated from tendon, like an anatomy lesson. The pain is excruciating and he can’t escape it.

“I carved you into a new animal. There is no going back.”

He wakes up with a cry, having rolled off the couch and landed on the floor. His knee is a red-hot spike of agony in response to the jarring, his left arm throbbing with his heartbeat. He feels like he’s going to vomit, and holds his breath, knowing he’ll never even make it to a wastebasket like this. As his knee quiets to a dull roar, he slowly stretches out flat on the floor, taking slow breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth. No smell of rotting flesh. No nasal drone of his commander’s voice. He can hear Ben snoring softly from the bedroom.

As soon as he can bear to stand, Dean hobbles to the bathroom and splashes cold water over his face. He braces himself at the sink, wiping a hand down his face. That was intense and damn vivid. He can still see the blood, muscle, and bone behind his eyelids. The things his CO made him do were atrocious. Torturing for intel. And it went well beyond what could remotely be considered humane. But Alistair got results, and they turned a blind eye. God, he even had Privates doing the most base things imaginable…

Dean takes a steadying breath as he feels his stomach churn. He stares in the mirror into his own eyes as the queasiness settles, the thrum and ache of his arm and leg becoming his focus. The physical pain grounds him, but he doesn’t want to be _this_ grounded. Opening up the medicine cabinet, he reaches for his Vicodin and takes two. Then he hobbles to the kitchen and opens the fridge door. Juice, milk, water, beer. He grabs a bottle of El Sol and chugs about half of it before swallowing his pills.

He knows that soon after the attack on his convoy that Alastair had been court martialed for his actions, and all those who had served under him had gone through psych evals. Dean was already on his way out because of his arm, so they didn’t look at him too hard. That, and he’d long learned how to fake it. A perk of having a drunk dad who sometimes attracted a little too much attention from CPS*.

With a sigh, he finishes his beer, tossing the empty bottle in the recycling bin. Then he slowly makes his way back to the couch and settles back in, waiting for the Vicodin to kick in. He knows it’s working when the familiar swimminess from taking it with beer starts. Closing his eyes, he takes deep breaths until he slips into a dreamless sleep.

\---

The day before the Fourth, Dean and Benny go and pick up a carload of drinks, buns, and condiments for the cookout. The Hy-Vee on Marion is having a sale and he gets the bread and sauces there, but he goes to Costco for the drinks, because that’s what they really need the bulk amounts of. He thinks some of the residents sneak off with armfuls of the sodas, so he always goes generic. The stores are all absolutely insane, packed with people getting ready for their own holiday celebrations, so he’s glad when they get back to the office and unload the car. While Benny stacks cases of soda in the corner, Dean takes another Vicodin because all the running around has made his knee throb.

Benny watches with a concerned look and says, “Make sure you at least eat somethin’ with that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean grabs a granola bar and scarfs it so there’s something in his system.

Wednesday, July fourth arrives bright, sunny and hot. The forecast calls for temperatures near a hundred degrees. There’s a great grassy spot just behind the pool enclosure where they plan on doing this. He starts setting up the grill and coolers around ten, and it’s already ninety degrees, sweat running down his back. Ben helps Benny with the folding tables and umbrellas while  Dean spreads out tablecloths, napkins, and plates.

Dean hauled out a stereo earlier and was rocking to Led Zeppelin until Ben rolled his eyes and switched it to a pop-rock station. When Dean complained over the sounds “Call Me Maybe”, Ben said not everyone shared his taste in music and insisted this would please the most people. He gritted his teeth and tried to tune out the inane perky beat. When Dean got caught swinging his hips to “Sexy and I Know It”, he gave up the fight.

By noon, everything is ready to go and Dean’s resting on a tall stool while manning the grill. Some of the families show up for lunch, some already in the pool before the burgers were even ready. Bobby comes by and when Dean jokes about his “free lunch”, the man grouses, “Free my ass, I’m the one footin’ the bill. Most expensive burger I ever ate.” But he knows if Bobby had any real problem with it, he’d stop doing these events altogether.

As the afternoon wears on, Dean wonders if Cas is going to show up, since he usually checks in with him by now. Probably got scared off by the screaming kids. He still keeps an eye out for that tan trenchcoat.

Since it’s a holiday almost everyone’s off work, but the singles and those without kids wait until later in the afternoon, when the families start heading back home for naps and to soothe sunburnt shoulders. As Dean’s picking up stray cans and plates off of tables in the pool area, Benny hip-checks him straight into the deep end of the pool.

“Son of a bitch!” He splutters as he comes up for air.

Realizing there are still some children around, he blushes furiously, glaring at Benny as the man belly-laughs.

“Get me the hell out of here you damn fool,” he growls, as his son collapses on the concrete, laughing his ass off as well.

After they manage to haul him out of the pool, he settles on a bench to look over his dripping knee brace. Luckily, he chose to wear board shorts, so except for the wet material slipping down his hips, he’s not flashing anything. With his left arm facing away from the everyone, he peels his shirt off to wring it out and sends Ben back to the apartment for a dry one. He’s glad he can still kind of tan through thin shirts or he would be blinding half the damn complex with white-boy glow. As it is, his shoulders and arms are covered with freckles. Flexing his muscles, he’s glad he keeps in shape.

Dean looks up from readjusting his brace and sees that familiar trenchcoat and dark head of hair standing by a tree. Cas’ eyes are as big as saucers and he’s staring at Dean’s shoulder so hard he can almost feel it burn. As if on reflex, he raises his hand to cover the scars and feels the texture of the hand-shaped mark in the middle. Cas jumps as if startled and dashes away. Huh. Dean wonders if his scar freaked the poor dude out, and he looks down at the puckered, discolored and shiny skin. He knows it’s ugly as hell, but to make a grown man run away from him…

Ben comes back with a fresh shirt and Dean quickly pulls it on, glancing over at where Cas had run off. By six, they pack up all the leftover supplies and collapse the tables. Benny promises to haul off the tables and garbage and shoos Dean and his son away with the coolers. Dean’s glad for the opportunity to go back home and take another couple of Vicodin. He last had one just before noon, and after his dip in the pool his leg is in agony. Two should be enough to last until after the fireworks tonight. He wants to take Ben down to Falls Park to see the show.

******

Castiel has been hiding in the apartment all day. He knows there’s a barbecue going on at the center of the complex and he just can’t bring himself to step outside in the fear he might run into someone. As time drags on into the afternoon, he wonders how Dean’s leg is doing. Is he having to stand? Does he have a comfortable chair? Castiel doesn’t question why he worries so much about his new friend, he just does.

Later in the afternoon, he decides to brave a quick peek outside. It seems quiet so he slowly makes his way to where they are supposed to have the grill set up. From a distance, he sees a laughing Benny haul a dripping Dean from the pool. Oh, he really shouldn’t get that brace wet like that. Wanting to rush over and help, he holds back, watching as Benny drags the man over to a bench. While Dean seemed upset at first, he’s laughing now and the smile seems to light up his face.

As Dean peels his shirt off, Castiel can see lightly tanned skin and firm abdominal muscles. Then he sees an intriguing tattoo, what looks like a star encircled by black flames as Dean pulls the shirt over his head. But then the wet fabric slides off the man’s shoulders and Castiel can’t breathe. He’s only a few yards away and braces himself against a tree trunk as he sees the scarring along Dean’s arm and shoulder.

Dean Winchester. It was in the very early hours of September 18th -his birthday- nearly four years ago, and his crew had been mutilating the birthday song when Castiel spotted an explosion during a reconnaissance mission in Iraq. He had immediately turned the chopper around to help, calling in assistance for the rescue of survivors. After laying down some suppression fire, they had landed and turned on the spotlights to make the scene more visible. The small team he had with him helped pull the ambulatory survivors to safety behind the vehicles that hadn’t gotten bombed.

When he heard the crackling voice over the radio asking for help, he realized there was at least one survivor in the overturned vehicle. After locking the chopper’s controls, he rushed to assist the trapped soldiers. The front cab of the vehicle was surrounded by flame, but he knew his flight suit and gloves were flame retardant, so he dove in. The first soldier he reached was already dead, and was quickly dragged out of the way. Then he crawled back in for the huddled, unconscious form of a soldier whose sleeve was slowly smoldering.

With a firm grip of the man’s forearm and shoulder, he pulled him out of the wreckage and unclasped his helmet. He looked at the Marine’s name tag, calling out his name, hoping to keep the soldier lucid enough to get him into the chopper. After rousing the soldier and helping him roll over to retch, the man fell unconscious again.

His sleeve had been almost completely burned off his shoulder, with bits of glass and metal sticking out of blistered skin. The area where Castiel had grasped him with a gloved hand now carried a palm-shaped mark. With the arrival of other rescue vehicles, he had gotten the soldier, and a couple of other injured survivors, and flown quickly for the nearest base. He never expected to see him again, especially like this. But here the man is, clearly recovered, with a functional arm, the palm-print still visible and smooth compared to the scarred surrounding flesh.

Dean is looking back at him and covers the mark with his hand. It startles Castiel from his thoughts. Not knowing what to do, he runs back home to the safety of walls and locked doors. Feeling the beginnings of a panic attack, tight chest, short, shallow breaths and trembling hands, he rushes to the kitchen and fumbles for the Xanax.

***

While Dean finishes putting away the leftovers from the cookout, Ben goes onto YouTube to show him the videos to the songs he seemed to enjoy the most. Dean laughs at the video for “Sexy and I Know It”, blushing at the thought of dancing in shiny underwear in front of a crowd. Those guys who make up LMFAO are damn crazy. But then he makes Ben embarrassed when he does the pelvic thrusts anyway. Ben starts a new video to make him stop and Dean discovers he kind of likes Neon Trees. Not that he’d admit it to anyone.

Ben insists he’s too old for fireworks, but Dean and Benny haul him out to the park anyway, because that’s what the Fourth is all about. They sprawl out in one of the few unoccupied grassy areas they can find and wait for it to get dark enough. Benny brought a pack of cards and they play a few hands to pass the time. When it would almost be too dark to see the cards if it wasn’t for the full moon, they put them away and soon the first booms and blooming sparks are ringing through the air.

Since he’s been back, Dean made sure to always try to take Ben to see the fireworks. He’d think that by now the noise wouldn’t bother him anymore, but it still reminds him of the Sandbox. Benny seems even more unsettled, but then again he spent longer over there. They both jerk when one of the fireworks that sounds like gunfire bursts and sparkles over their heads, but they try to not let Ben notice it. During a particularly bright explosion, they give each other a thumbs-up to show they’re handling it okay.

When they finally make it back to the apartment, he drops Ben off and hangs out with Benny at his apartment for a change. They talk about what it was like over there, and how things had changed since Dean had left. They got better armor but less support as other countries started to dial back their forces. Eventually their unit got transferred to Afghanistan as forces were withdrawn from Iraq.

Dean grows quiet and lets Benny talk as the dull ache in his knee flares to a more acute throbbing. By the time Benny winds down, all Dean can think about is eating a couple of Vicodin, drinking a beer and passing the hell out. Benny seems to get the message and makes motions for ending the visit. Dean gladly obliges and says he’ll see him first thing in the morning. As soon as he can make it back to his own place, he makes good on his earlier thoughts.

The rest of the week is relatively quiet, except for an air conditioner going out in one of the 3-bedroom units. Dean has to send a late notice to Chuck Shurley, a guy in a single down on the southern side. Chuck always forgets to pay his rent on time, and Bobby keeps charging him late fees. Dean figures either one of these days the dude will start paying on time or he’ll begin to think the higher price is just his rent. He can’t figure out how the guy makes his money anyway, because the dude never seems to leave his apartment.

And Cas hasn’t stopped by the office yet, either. Dean’s afraid he really spooked him this time, having seen his messed up shoulder. For all Dean knows, the guy has some pretty gruesome scars himself, and that’s why he’s always hiding under that coat.

Saturday, Ben doesn’t even complain when Dean decides to take him fishing again. His mom’s coming to get him on Monday and she’ll stay the night at a hotel before driving back Tuesday. It took a while for the boy to warm up to him again, but they’re both going to miss each other when he goes back.

Sunday, Ben teaches Dean how to use Skype. Since Dean hasn’t upgraded to the land of Smartphones yet, Ben shows him how to use the computer version. He sits in the computer chair with Ben leaning over his shoulder. First he chooses the username USMCDW, but it’s taken.

“Real original. Try another.”

He ends up with the username 67ImpalaDW.

“Okay, first you have to test your mic and speakers.”

”Uhhh, I don’t have a mic?”

“What do you mean you don’t have a mic? It’s a laptop, it’s built-in.”

“Oh.”

When Dean has to choose a picture, he uses one of the Impala, with him leaning against the front quarter panel. After a few more minutes, Ben has Dean add him to his contact list, and he uses his phone to call Dean’s account. He sends some test messages and also shows him how to switch to video chat.

“Alright Dad, now you're ready to Skype with me when we’re both available.”

Dean sits stunned for a moment. That’s the first time Ben has called him Dad since he left, after shoving the boy against a wall. His eyes prickle and vision gets a little hazy. Ben looks almost as surprised as Dean does that the word came out of his mouth. Before the boy can pull away, Dean has his arms wrapped around his waist, hugging tightly. Ben pats his shoulder for a moment before trying to pull away.

“Um, remember what you always tell me about chick-flick moments?”

Letting go, Dean clears his throat and looks sheepishly at his son. “Sorry, I just…”

“Yeah, I get it.” He nudges the man with his knee. “Just keep in mind, if you’re gonna make a big deal every time I say it, then I’ll stop.”

“Deal.” Dean nods, turning back to the computer screen with a big smile on his face. Ben wants to stay in contact with him, so in a way he’ll be able to see him more often.

Monday goes way too quickly and a little after five PM, Lisa arrives. They follow her to the Ramada on Lyons and then go get some dinner. Ben insists on Chinese, so they go to the Golden Harvest, a little restaurant off Garfield. While Dean devours his Orange Beef, Ben tells Lisa all about the better parts of his visit like going fishing and the boating thing, and fireworks. She notices when Ben uses the word “dad” and looks at Dean with a warm smile.

After they’re finished and the leftovers are in to-go containers, (except for the Orange Beef, Dean finished all of his) he asks if anyone wants ice cream, which makes both Lisa and Ben groan. When they drop her off at the hotel, Lisa says she’ll be by about nine to get Ben and start the drive back home. Back at the apartment both Dean and Ben’s moods are subdued.

Ben looks over at him with an X-Box controller in hand. They play Mass Effect 3 until late into the evening. After Ben finally crawls off to bed, Dean takes his Vicodin without a beer this time and it takes a while for him to finally go to sleep.

In the morning, Dean cooks breakfast like he used to when he lived with Lisa. He makes eggs and bacon and pancakes, and even lets Ben have some coffee.

“I won’t have to put up with your hyper ass on the road this time, so I don’t mind,” he says with a smirk. They linger over breakfast before finally clearing the table and hauling Ben’s stuff down to the office where they had previously agreed to meet Lisa. Right at nine o’clock, Lisa pulls up in front of the door in her blue Toyota Corolla. Dean and Ben hug one last time as he helps put the boy’s things in the back seat.

“Hey, buddy, have fun at your camp… thing.”

Ben nods and slides into the passenger seat. Lisa says she’ll be right out as she and Dean head back to the office.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with Ben while your leg—”

Dean cuts her off, “No, I asked to keep him the full time, and I wouldn't trade a minute of it.”

Lisa looks up at him, “It’s really nice to see you doing so well for yourself now, Dean.”

He purses his lips and looks away, and she places a hand on his cheek, which makes him close his eyes. God, he misses touches like that.

“I know you had a lot going on, but do you really think we could have made it work, been happy? You and I both know it would have happened eventually. At least this way Ben… I…”

Dean turns away, “Yeah, didn’t get too attached and we never got married. Yeah, I know.”

“That’s not what I meant…”

He refuses to look at her. “Just go, okay?” he says softly.

Lisa places a hand on his back. “I’ll try to see if he can come down around New Year’s, alright?”

“We’ll see.”

She sighs and turns away, stopping when she reaches the door. “I’m not trying to punish you Dean. You know that, right?”

He turns back to her, expression tight and inclines his head.

With a small, sad smile, she exits the office. Dean watches as Ben waves from the passenger seat as they pull away. He collapses into his office chair and places his face in his hands, elbows propped on the desk. Shit, if Lisa hadn't opened her mouth, it wouldn’t hurt this bad. He sits like that for a good fifteen minutes before Benny comes in with a tool box in one hand and some PVC pipe in the other.

“The boy gone home then?”

Dean just nods.

He performs his daily duties almost on automatic, tired of sitting at his desk and pushing papers around. When he takes his Vicodin after lunch, he desperately wants a beer. But it’s one of the rules he set for himself when he stopped drinking heavy, and backsliding would end in disaster. He promised Bobby he’d never drink on the job, and even if it’s “just one beer”, he knows how quickly it can turn to two, and then more. So he sucks it up and decides to get in his physical therapy with a walk around the property while the Vicodin keep him from hurting too much.

Cas still seems to be picking up during his morning walks, and the property looks great. He still kind of misses the guy coming by after lunch, but oh well. Dean tries to remind himself the dude’s a little scrambled and to not expect anything resembling normal out of him. Out by the southwest corner, Dean can see where Benny’s installed some security lights at the fence. Hopefully that will keep out the mischievous turds that keep wanting to “improve” that side of the property.

By the time he gets back to the office, he feels tired and ends up playing solitaire on the computer for about an hour before locking the front door, hanging a sign for visitors to call, and closing his eyes for a nap. Half an hour later, the phone rings and he ends up showing a young couple some two-bedroom apartments. He smiles, is polite, and answers their questions, but he’s just not up to  it right now; so when they take a brochure and say they’ll get back in touch, he gladly ushers them back out the door.

Dean’s just not really feeling it today. He pokes about the office until four and closes up early, forwarding the line to his cell, just in case. When he gets home, he has that beer he’s been wanting and turns on the TV in time to catch a rerun of Dr. Sexy, M.D. About five, he feels his midday Vicodin wearing off and has another, along with a beer. Not eating wasn’t a good idea, and he can feel his stomach churn. After choking down a hastily made sandwich, he settles back on the couch and mindlessly watches whatever comes on. When it gets dark, he makes another sandwich, has another couple of Vicodin and washes it all down with another beer.

At some point he falls asleep on the couch and it’s not until Benny bangs on the door in the morning that he manages to wake up, hair sticking up in all directions, the pattern of the couch imprinted on his face, and his mouth tasting like something curled up in it and died. When he finally manages to crawl off the couch and get the door unlocked, Benny stares at him with a scowl.

“Damn, brother, just how much did you drink last night?”

Dean ignores the comment. “Why you bangin’ on m’ door s’ early? Somethin’ on fire?” He lets Benny into the apartment and hobbles to the coffee pot.

Benny surveys the living room and kitchen, pointedly looking at the wall clock. “It’s after nine in the morning. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Dean swipes a hand across his face and frowns. “That explains why my knee’s killin’ me, well past time for my pain meds,” he grumbles.

Benny watches, concerned, as Dean shakes out two of his pain pills and swallows them dry. While Dean gets through his morning coffee, Benny insists on whipping up some scrambled eggs and toast. While he’s cooking, he asks why Dean never answered his phone. All Dean can give him is a blank look. After Benny shoves his breakfast in front of him, he goes looking for the phone. Benny finds it half under the couch, dead. Once he finds the charger, he rushes Dean into the bathroom and has the man presentable and in the office, at his desk by ten.

The rest of the week doesn’t go much better.

* * *

 

*CPS: Child Protection Services 


	5. Acting Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: mental health issues, mentions of the Aurora, Colorado shooting, addiction

Castiel has been hiding. He admits it, and knows it’s childish. But after discovering that Dean, his apartment manager, is the same man he saved in Iraq… What are the chances? When Dean covered his shoulder, perhaps he was embarrassed that it had been seen? After all, Castiel has noticed that even on the hottest days Dean tries to wear a shirt that covers his arms. So he’s afraid of how Dean might react to him having seen his scar. But how does someone just bring up in conversation, “Oh Dean, by the way, I’m the guy that saved you in Iraq, how are you today?”

So until Castiel figures out another way to handle the awkwardness between himself and one of the few people with which he can actually have a conversation, he’s hiding. Like a coward. And he thought he had been feeling up to braving the public enough to actually go to the cookout.

Frustrated, he sits in front of the sliding glass door and sketches flowers, butterflies, bees. He would never consider himself an artist or anything, but Anna suggested he pick up a hobby. When he hears the sound of the lawn mower, he looks up, but notices it’s Benny riding it. With a huff he closes his notebook and goes upstairs to his own room.

Throwing the notebook onto his bed, he glares at himself in the mirror over his dresser. _Who would have thought you would become so weak?_ He thinks at his reflection. _You used to run into dangerous situations all the time, help people, save lives. You went to Manhattan after 9/11 and helped treat survivors. But now you can’t even step out of your own apartment, have a conversation?_ _Pathetic_.

Turning away from the mirror, he stares out his window and watches the mower make its way back and forth across the lawn. Who he used to be seems like a completely different person to whatever he has become. The guilt over the things his commanding officer had him -had all of them- do weighs heavily on his shoulders. At first, it had seemed fitting when the others insisted on calling him by his first name, Castiel, after the angel of Thursday. He wonders why his mother chose that name. He wasn’t even born on a Thursday.

After he’d become a part of the Bloody Angels, they had used him as inspiration and given everyone in his platoon an angelic nickname. His friend Uri had become Uriel, and their company commander, originally Major Finnerman, had become Raphael. Their section commander, Lieutenant Virgil was fanatically devoted to Raphael’s every order. That was also why everyone in his platoon got the ARSOAC insignia tattooed on their shoulders, because of the red wings.

But then everything had gone so terribly wrong. The things Raphael ordered them to do… The consequences of disobeying orders… Castiel forces himself to stop thinking about it, and realizes that the mower has moved on from this side of the property. He gets ready to go to his weekly therapy session.

\---

More and more frequently, Castiel has been lying about his wellbeing during therapy sessions. He’s sitting on a neutral-colored, overstuffed couch, mentioning how he was able to go out and greet a neighbor at the mailbox. It’s a complete and utter fabrication, he only knows where the mailboxes even are because he sees them during his walks. Anna’s the one who gets the mail. And does the shopping.

Dr. Fitzgerald, some scrawny guy that looks too young to have a degree, with goofy looking ears and a bulbous nose, looks at him with a huge grin on his face and congratulates him on his progress. Castiel wonders if this guy graduated from a real school or got an online degree. When his other therapist got too busy to see him weekly, he got passed to the new addition, who insists on everyone calling him by his first name. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to be a test for the new guy or not, but it took a while for him to do more than acknowledge that his new therapist was in the room. But then Dr. Fitzgerald -Garth- had pulled out the sock puppet. Castiel could either speak to the man or be subjected to a terrible, high-pitched, sappy lecture about being friends from “Mr. Fizzles”.

After a few more agonizing minutes of pretending to be more adjusted to society than he really is, Castiel is finally free to go. Garth offers a hug at the end of every session, but Castiel glares at him every time, refusing. The man just smiles at him, and shakes his finger, saying “One of these days.”

***

Over the weekend, someone busted out the security lights out at the southwest corner. Both Dean and Benny are pissed, and Dean wishes his leg wasn’t screwed up so he could help Benny with the nightly patrols he starts up again. Whoever’s doing all this didn’t spray paint on anything this time, but the next day they did find some particularly fragrant rotten roadkill next to the fence. Benny had to shower after cleaning that up. Sheriff Mills had to send someone out again, since it involved a dead animal. Dean let Deputy Hudak rest in the office for about half an hour after they got it cleaned up, because he honestly thought she was gonna blow chunks, pass out, or both. It was that bad. They couldn’t even tell what kind of animal it was any more.

It’s almost enough to distract him from the anniversary of his dad’s death. Almost. Thursday the 19th, Dean and Sam go out to Saint Michael’s Cemetery, where their dad is buried. They find a young man already there, a bottle of whiskey in hand. Damn, Adam started without them.

Yeah, so turns out Dad had another kid. They didn’t even find out until after the man had died and they found letters among his personal stuff. Of course, they knew the man wasn’t a monk, but still, hiding a brother from them? Both Sam and Dean had gone out to Minnesota to break the news to the kid and his mom. It had been weird seeing their dad’s eyes, albeit a much lighter color, on the fifteen year old boy. At least he still has his mom and gets to live a relatively normal life. Adam just graduated from the University of Wisconsin and will be starting med school in the fall.

“Hey, Milligan,” Dean calls out, “You drink enough of that, you’ll have to relearn your last semester.”

The light-haired young man sloppily turns to face them and flips them the bird. Sam takes the bottle from him and gives him a hug.

“Think you’ve had enough for now, big guy.”

Adam pulls back and frowns up at his taller brother. “Shuddup, you freakishly… big guy.”

Dean laughs and he gets his turn at the hugging. “Nah, with Sam’s hair? He’s a big girl.”

He turns to see an epic bitchface from Sam. They hang out at the grave for a little while, sharing the bottle of whiskey. Except for Dean. Sam declared him the designated driver because of his pain medications. That’s what Sam says, anyway. Dean knows it’s partially because he’s not supposed to drink anything stronger than beer anymore.

When they all agree they’ve been properly maudlin, they go have dinner. Dean declares that since he’s the designated driver, he gets to pick the restaurant and chooses the Roll’n Pin Cafe and Grill. Their burgers are freaking awesome, but he’s tempted by the country fried steak. After they’re all appropriately stuffed, they go to Sam’s for a while. Adam chooses to crash there for the night, but Dean wants to go home, where he can drink his beer judgement-free.

******

Castiel still takes his morning walks and has shifted his second walk of the day almost exclusively to the evening. He likes the golden tones of the sky just before sundown and enjoys watching the fireflies begin their nightly mating dance, blinking patterns into the twilight. When he sees the broken glass from the busted out security lights, he knows there’s going to be trouble. And sure enough, the next morning there's a lot of activity around the southwest corner, disturbing his walk. Someone from the sheriff's office comes and when Castiel explores the site, he can still smell the lingering odor of something that had been dead for a while, out by the fence. This prompts him to start going back out on late-night patrols again, avoiding Benny when the man does so as well.

Castiel has to stop taking his nightly medicine in order to make his nocturnal rounds, and makes up for the lack of sleep with naps during the day while Anna is at work. Unfortunately, his nightmares return as a result. Flashes of violence, screaming, watching the light of life fade from a person’s eyes, disjointed imagery has him gasping as he jerks awake. He’s lucky if he gets more than a couple hours rest at a time. Often, he wakes with a headache, a dull pounding behind his eyes.

During the new moon, sometime after midnight on the twentieth, he is over on the west side of the property and sees movement as something crosses the road. Crouching, he watches as voices whisper to each other and there's quite a bit of giggling and laughter.  He carefully slinks closer, and he can make out several figures gesturing at the ground. One turns on a small flashlight and he can make out a couple of their faces.

The one holding the light is a young man, possibly in his early twenties, with light eyes and short-cropped hair. Next to him is a pretty young woman, her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. There is a shorter kid with floppy dark hair and a few other people he can’t quite make out. They’re all wearing dark clothing.  

A canister of something is pulled from a bag and one of the males begins squirting some kind of fluid onto the ground. It looks like it might be lighter fluid. Are they planning on setting a fire? Even though the grounds are regularly watered, it's been incredibly hot and the grass is still dry enough to potentially allow a fire to spread out of control and endanger not only the apartments, but the nearby fields, houses and wilderness. He cannot allow this behavior to continue, they must be possessed by some kind of evil to commit such destruction. Swiftly and quietly advancing in a crouch, he gets within a few yards. When the flashlight randomly sweeps in his direction, his white scrubs and tan trenchcoat are a bright spot in the night.

"Shit, it's the crazy guy!" A male voice calls.

The group begins to take off, but a girl who had crouched down to retrieve something from a bag is slower to get going. He tackles her to the ground, and she flails wildly, kicking and scratching. Just as he manages to get her partially subdued he notices the strong odor of lighter fluid and a faint wisp of burning tobacco. He notices the burning ember from a dropped cigarette just as it catches in the fluid, causing a ring of fire to burst up around them. The sudden flame-up around them causes the girl to freeze, eyes wide with fear. Castiel takes advantage and pins her down, placing his palm to her forehead and begins chanting, “ _Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino qui fertis super caelum caeli ad Orientem. Ecce dabit voci Suae, vocem virtutis, tribuite virtutem Deo…”_

While he continues chanting the exorcism, the beam of a powerful flashlight bounces around on the grass around them. A large man appears just outside the ring of flame and swears. Castiel recognizes Benny and keeps chanting, holding down the girl that is starting to struggle again. Benny swears again, loudly, then begins stomping out the flames. When he has a large enough gap in the fire, the man drags Castiel off the girl, cutting him off mid-chant. Castiel lands on his rear and watches as Benny easily hauls up and restrains the girl, arms held behind her back.

“Holy hell, man! You just gonna sit there, or you gonna help me put out the damn fire?”

Castiel gets up and helps extinguish the rest of the already dying flames, making sure all the sparks and smoldering spots are stamped out. He eyes the girl as they make their way to the apartment office, and she appears completely normal. Dark, long hair has been pulled into a ponytail, now messy and loose, with hair and grass sticking up everywhere. She has dark eyes and a mole just under the left one. She can’t be older than seventeen and might even be pretty when she’s not swearing and busy fighting the large bulk of Benny hauling her along.

Once they’re in the office, the girl is forcefully seated in a chair and Benny calls the police after instructing Castiel to go get Dean. He just stares between Benny and the girl, dumbfounded at his new role in all this. _I have to go get Dean? Me?_ Castiel thinks. Benny rolls his eyes at him and makes shooing gestures with one hand, the other holding a phone to his ear as he waits for the police to pick up. When Castiel still doesn’t move, Benny steps forward and it looks like he’s going to touch him. This prompts Castiel to push through the door backwards, out into the night and towards Dean’s apartment.

When he reaches Dean’s door, he hesitates. Surely he’s asleep, and will be highly irate at being awoken so early. But then again, they do have one of the taggers in custody and he would want to know about that. He starts off with a quick knock. Unsure how long to wait, after about a minute he rings the doorbell. He continues this knock, pause, doorbell, until he finally hears the deadbolt being turned. Dean opens the door, cellphone to his ear, and grumpily disheveled. He’s wearing shorts and a dark t-shirt.

With a frown, Dean turns away from the open door, growling into the phone, “Yeah, he’s here, knocking  and ringing the damn doorbell. Gimme a damn minute to get dressed and I’ll be right there.” He reacts to something said over the phone, eyes widening as he stares at Castiel still standing in the doorway, looking uncomfortable in his pajamas and trenchcoat, stained with grass, dirt, and ash. “Yeah, I’ll bring him back to the office with me, uh huh, see you in a bit. Oh, and call Bobby for me? Thanks.”

Castiel wasn’t sure what to do as Dean finished his phone conversation, so he’s still standing in the doorway. Dean blows an exasperated breath between mostly closed lips, making his cheeks puff out, and runs a hand through his short hair which is standing in all directions on top. Then he notices the door is still open, with Castiel still standing there.

“What the hell, dude? Come in, close the damn door.” Dean watches as Castiel steps in just enough to close the door behind him. “I gotta go get dressed, so just wait here, I'll be right out.” With that, he disappears down the hallway.

Castiel stands awkwardly in the living room. While he waits, he takes the time to look at his surroundings. Last time, he was too busy helping Dean to notice much. Although he did remember the place being clean then. Now, it smells faintly of dirty socks and old pizza. There are clothes piled haphazardly on the backs of chairs, a pair of jeans with the belt still attached dangling over the arm of the couch. And he can see several beer bottles littered around. Through the kitchen door, there’s a quite substantial stack of takeout boxes on the kitchen counter.

After a moment, Dean comes out of the bedroom with a fresh shirt and jeans. His hair is still all over the place and the hand he keeps combing through it isn’t helping. He grabs his keys and phone from the coffee table, wincing as he straightens up, his leg still bothering him. Castiel hopes the man will be able to heal without a limp or pain. As Dean shuffles closer, Castiel can smell stale beer and sweat on him, and he can see the deep bags under his eyes. The man looks exhausted. Dean comes and stands in front of him, an expectant look on his face. What could he possibly want? Castiel studies his expression, the raised eyebrows, the slight downturn of the mouth that keeps growing deeper with each passing moment. He notices Dean is just an inch or so taller. Dean’s eyebrows go from raised to scrunched down.

“Dude, you wanna move so we can get out of here?”

Oh. Castiel moves to the side so Dean can reach the doorknob. Dean opens the door and waits for Castiel to exit, then closes and locks it behind them before slowly making his way to the office. Castiel trails just behind him and notices Dean pull a prescription bottle from of his pocket. He shakes a couple of pills out and swallows them dry with a grimace before repocketing the bottle. When Castiel notices the almost instant reaction to taking his medication: a more relaxed set to the shoulders, the lines on Dean’s face seem to fade, his gait elongates, he begins to worry about Dean. Knowing that no pain pill can work that fast, he’s afraid Dean might be becoming dependent on his medication. As they near the office, he decides to keep an eye on the man for the duration.

***

Dean enters the office, brightly lit compared to the still-dark very early morning outside. He sees Benny, arms crossed, glaring at a teenage girl in a guest chair. Shocked, he braces himself against the doorframe.

“Krissy?!” He says with an incredulous look on his face, “What are you doing here?”

The girl turns at the sound of her name and her whole demeanor changes from defiant to ashamed. She’s one of the residents. Didn’t Benny say they caught one of the taggers? Dean knows her dad, and the man is a trucker, putting in long hours driving cross-country. Lee is a good man, and Dean met him within the first week of managing the complex. Krissy always acted like a sweet girl around her dad, so the look she had given Benny before realizing Dean was there was a revelation.

“Uh, Benny? What’s going on? Are you telling me that she was involved somehow?”

Benny looks from Dean, to Krissy, and then settles his gaze on Castiel. “Why don’t you ask him? He’s the one I found holding her down with his hand on her head. And what was up with the ring of fire?”

 _Okay, this just keeps getting weirder_ , Dean thinks, looking between the assembled group.

Krissy points a finger at Castiel. “This guy’s crazy, he didn’t even react when Craig’s cigarette set off the lighter fluid. And what kind of shit were you even saying to me, you pervert?” She’s halfway out of her seat before Benny pushes her back down.

Looking at his shoes, Castiel starts, “Ah, it was supposed to be an exorcism. In Latin. They were using an accelerant on the grass and I wanted to stop them before they could cause a potentially dangerous fire.” He looks up at Dean, “I’m not a pervert, I was just trying to restrain her.”

Dean holds up a hand for them to pause, rubbing his fingers across his forehead with his thumb massaging a temple. If he hadn’t just taken a couple of Vicodin, he thinks he’d be getting a headache right now. Before he does anything else, he sinks down into the manager’s chair.

Sorting through what he’s been told so far, he speaks. “Okay. So there was another person involved?” He says, facing Krissy.

Castiel answers, “At least three more, maybe four.”

Krissy glares at him, her mouth tightly closed, arms crossed.

“So…” Dean tries again his palm held out to Cas as he looked the girl straight in the eye, “You were trying to set fire to our lawn?”

“Not exactly…” Krissy mumbles, “We just wanted to make some… patterns.”

Benny speaks up, “You were crop circling?”

“Actually,” Cas this time, “If these are the same people responsible for the other vandalism, I know what the first drawing was.” He’s glaring hard at Krissy and she looks down into her lap.

 _Aw, hell_ , Dean thinks, _It’s been a resident the whole damn time?_ “Alright, what do you suppose was drawn on the wall then?”

Still glaring at the girl, Cas says, “An angel banishing sigil.”

Dean is still confused, but Krissy’s head jerks up, a surprised look on her face when she looks at Cas.

“So you’re a fan, too?”

Cas’ whole face scrunches in confusion, but before he can answer, there’s a knock at the door and Sheriff Mills comes in, dressed in comfortable civvies, obviously called in while not on duty. Dean tries to rise from his chair, but Jody waves him off.

“Injured men have no right trying to be all gentlemanly, keep your butt parked.” She turns to Benny. “So, we caught one of the taggers?”

When Benny waves his hand at the seated teen, Jody’s face softens just a bit. Dean hopes she goes easy on the girl, knowing how it would affect her father if she got in real trouble. He doesn’t miss the look Jody throws to Cas, or the way the man shrinks back when she does.

“And this is the guy that caught her, too,” Dean says, smiling at the man who looks like he wants to fade into the wall.

Jody just smiles back at the man before turning back to the girl. “So where are the rest of your little band of merry troublemakers?”

Krissy clams up, refusing to say any more, and Benny digs through the small gym bag the girl had with her. He finds a phone and hands it to the sheriff. The smartphone has a simple pattern lock and it doesn’t take long before the woman is in. Before she gets any further than the main screen, she asks, “Do you object to me looking at your phone?” All she gets is a glare. “I’ll take that as consent.” She’s scrolling through Krissy’s contacts when Bobby comes bursting through the door.

“Where are the dadblamed hoodlums costing me my sanity?”

The outburst has Cas shivering in a huddled ball on the floor, and Dean glances quickly at the sheriff before rushing over. The last thing he needs is the witness to this looking incompetent.

“Guy has social anxiety, okay? Just back off for a bit.” He looks at Benny, “You mind filling them in while I get him calmed down?”

With a nod, Benny gathers the sheriff and Bobby by the desk, and Dean crouches before Cas.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” He says softly, watching Cas’ short, fast breathing, waiting for a response before trying another tactic. “C’mon, there’s a quiet corner down the end of the hall. Think you can make it that far for me?” He receives a shaky nod, and proceeds to shepherd the man down the short hall that leads to the back entrance and a supply closet.

“What do you need? Do you want me to get Anna?”

Cas shakes his head violently and starts trembling harder. “Xanax,” he wheezes.

“Do you have any on you?” Cas shakes his head, and Dean replies, “Then we’ll have to do this together.”

Once he has Cas leaning against the back wall, Dean tries using some of the tactics he picked up between combat and his own recovery.

“I need you to take a deep breath with me, okay, Cas?” The poor man is almost wheezing the short breaths he’s taking, and he focuses his eyes on Dean. They’re dilated wide.

“In through the nose, c’mon, do it with me.” Closing his mouth, Dean flares his nostrils and expands his upper body while he takes a breath, and sees Cas do the same.

“And out through the mouth.” He purses his lips, blowing out, and watches Cas mimic the action.

As Cas’ breathing slows and becomes deeper, Dean starts talking to him, encouraging his breathing. “Okay, now picture somewhere you wanna be. Go ahead and close your eyes, nothing’s gonna happen to you. You like gardens?” Cas nods. “Well that’s where you are, in a garden. Maybe there’s a place to sit? A little bench? Just go on, have a seat and relax. What else do you see in your garden, Cas?”

The man opens his eyes and looks directly at Dean. “A kite,” he replies.

“Someone’s flying a kite?” Cas nods. “Okay, keep breathing, someone’s flying a kite in your garden. You’re sitting on your bench, relaxed in the sun, watching the kite.” Dean continues like this for a couple of minutes, soothing the man with his voice. It’s surprisingly easy getting Cas to pay attention and calm down. Once he feels the guy is calm enough, Dean pulls away.

“Okay, I need to go back and check on what's happening over there, alright? You just keep breathing.”

Cas nods, much steadier than before, and Dean heads back to where Bobby is parked in Dean’s chair, stewing. Krissy is still where he left her, and Benny is looking at the phone with Jody, conversing softly. Eyes widening, Dean looks between Bobby and the sheriff. Oho, is the old coot getting jealous?

“So, we get anywhere?” Dean asks, making Jody and Benny look up at him, the phone returning completely to Jody’s grip.

“We cross-checked her contact list with Facebook, think we ID'd a couple of her tagging buddies.” She turns the phone around, showing Dean a couple of Facebook pages. “Do you mind asking your friend if he recognizes any of them?”

Nodding, Dean takes the phone to Cas, and returns a minute later. “This guy,” he points to a picture, “and this one too. He’s not sure about the rest. Too dark.”

Jody places her hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Tell him he was a great help. Now, get Bobby out of your chair and make him get us a couple of extra seats. I didn’t get up this early just to stand around until sunrise.”

While Bobby goes to get some extra chairs, Jody sits next to Krissy and turns to face her.

“I understand you don’t want to deal with an authority figure right now, but understand this is very serious.” Krissy rolls her eyes and looks away. “My question is, what do you think will happen if we go to Gary Frankel’s house and wake up his parents?” Krissy tightens her jaw. “Or, what about Craig Thursten?” Jody notices the girl twitch. “I understand that he’s home from college for the summer and his cousin Dana’s visiting, too. How do you think this will affect their ability to go back to school in the fall? How will his family react?” A worried look crosses Krissy’s face. Jody keeps going on. “Or, we can just pin the whole thing on you, send you to Juvie, and explain it to your dad.” The girl looks completely horrified at the thought.

“But,” Jody pauses for effect, “There is another way. You can tell us the names of everyone involved, we wait until morning. There are some fines that will have to be paid, and Mr. Singer here will drop the charges, and you get to stay with your dad in the apartment.” Bobby looks thoroughly scandalized at the thought.

Dean’s impressed. He knows that there’s a lot of charges they could trump up on the group of teens, but with only one witness, in the dark, and that witness is Cas… He looks toward the hallway where the man in question is still hiding. If they just get them on the nuisance charges and slap everyone with fines, it should keep everyone happy. Well, and maybe just a little volunteer work around the property would make Bobby semi-satisfied.

Once he’s sure Krissy’s willing to tell them the names of the rest of her group, he checks on Cas. He’s doing better now, but doesn’t want to go through the office. Dean lets him out through the back door, and Cas thanks him before he turns and walks away. Dean can’t help but think the dude’s definitely a little bit wacko, but he’s a pretty nice guy. He doesn’t manage to get back home himself until the sky begins to lighten. Maybe he can sleep in just a little before dragging his butt back down to the office for the day.

\---

Dean makes it down to the office a little after nine thirty. He’s in the middle of doing the financials when Benny bursts into the office.

“Have you watched the news, brother?”

Rocking back in his chair, Dean frowns at the man. He usually avoids the news because all the shit that’s usually on it just reminds him of the Sandbox. Minimizing the accounting software, he opens a browser.

“What am I looking for?”

“Aurora, Colorado.”

After Benny scoots a chair around to see the screen, they scroll through article after article about some guy losing his shit in a movie theater. So many people injured and killed. It reminds them that there’s crazy everywhere. They soon close the browser, not wanting to be reminded just how close to home the violence they wanted to leave behind can get.

Around lunchtime, Cas shows up, much to Dean’s surprise. He has washed his trenchcoat, and Dean can see where it got singed in a couple of spots. The man comes in, says “Hello, Dean,” and just stands there, staring at him.

“Uh, hi Cas.”

He just keeps staring. It’s making Dean a little uncomfortable.

“Can I do something for you, Cas?”

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing, Dean.”

“Oh, I’m doing okay. How about you?”

Dude’s still just standing there, _staring_. “I’m well,” the man pauses, then adds, “relatively, anyway. Thank you for talking me down last— this morning. Anna doesn’t know I was out last night. I’d like to keep it that way.”

Dean nods. It kind of bothers him that the mentally unstable guy is hiding things from the family who’s supposed to take care of him, but he understands the need for some autonomy. God, if Sammy had been all over him when he’d been recovering… Dean doesn’t even want to think how crazy he’d have gotten. So if Cas wants to roam around at night playing Batman, as long as he doesn’t get hurt or harm anyone else, he doesn’t see a problem.

And, dude’s still just _standing_ there. Okay, heading from weird territory into creepy.

“So, did you hear about the Aurora shooting?”

Cas immediately drops eye contact. “Yes, I saw this morning, while Anna was getting ready for work. It’s quite a tragedy.”

“Crazy that some guy can just go into a place and do something like that, right?”

Cas’ face immediately becomes troubled, his eyes flicking side to side like he’s trying to think of a response. He comes back with, “They think they’ve found a Higgs boson particle.”

“What?”

“It’s quite interesting, you see, they used the Large Hadron Collider at Cern to study subatomic particles…”

Dean gets lost in the technobabble and recognizes a desperate change in subject when he hears it. He holds a hand up to stop Cas.

“Seriously, most of that is going over my head. Anyway, I kinda need to get some work done, so if there’s nothing else?” He raises his eyebrows at the end of his question.

Looking properly abashed, Cas nods and turns to leave. Dean realizes he’s just chased off the guy after he finally started coming back over, and calls out to him.

“Hey, I hope you keep coming by though, I kinda like talking to ya.”

Cas turns and gives a small smile, nodding his head before slipping out the door. Dude’s weird, but he’s kind of good company most days. Besides, he could probably use a friend. Both of them could. Dean thinks about how it might be nice having Cas as a friend, swallowing his mid-day Vicodin.

Later in the day, Jody comes by to give Dean a report on the taggers. All their parents have been notified, and only Thursten and his cousin are legal adults, so the matter was settled quietly with fines. One of the interesting things is what they discovered about the symbols that had been drawn. Apparently there’s a not-well-known book series called _Supernatural_ that has a small, almost cult following. The original publisher went under in ‘09 but the author, Carver Edlund, has continued e-publishing by himself. He started the series in ‘05, so there are seven years worth of books. All the symbols used by the taggers were featured in them. Dean briefly wonders how they got the symbols from a book. Were there illustrations or something?

 _Freaking weirdos_ , Dean thinks, _getting all caught up in a book, thinking it’s real_. And then he remembers something Cas said. _“I know what the first drawing was.”_ Christ, not Cas too? He’ll have to ask the guy next time he stops by.


	6. Subterfuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: addiction & related symptoms
> 
> There are some Hindi words used, they can be found at the end of the chapter in Notes.

Monday morning starts with an oddity. Dean notices a couple of Roman Enterprises vans parked across the road, and guys doing what looks like surveying through the corn field. Dean wonders if the company’s going to start doing farming or something. He soon forgets about it, and continues about his day.

Lunchtime, Cas comes by and Dean gets a chance to ask him about the books. The guy’s never heard of them, and when he’s pressed about how he recognized the symbol, he replies, “It would be quite simple for someone to take existing symbolism and incorporate it into a fictional work, Dean. Many writers do this, as it’s much easier than creating their own.”

Dean looks surprised. “Really? What kind of books do you read, Cas?”

Cas’  interest in books is surprisingly varied. Historical novels, science fiction, the heavy Russian crap like Tolstoy, but then there’s young adult stuff, and romance. The guy even reads nonfiction like science journals and history? Leaning back in his chair, dumbfounded, Dean just can’t seem to peg the dude at all. And he’s usually pretty good at figuring people out.  

Dean sits there stunned for a moment, mulling over what he just learned about Cas. Seems like the guy will read just about everything. But romance? Dean doesn’t try to judge, but seriously. He flipped through one that Lisa had once, something about royalty in 18th century England. There was a lot of bodice-ripping and strange names for their sex parts. It was impossible to read. Just give him some porn with almost no plot, a girl with nice tits that wants to strip down into nothing at the drop of a hat, but leaves her barely-there panties and heels on. Add a guy who’s all ripped and well-hung, and let the improbable sexual antics begin. And, of course, make it into a video so he doesn’t have to read that shit.

Cas is looking at him quizzically, and Dean realizes he’s been staring into space with a dazed expression. Damn, derailed that train of thought straight into ‘I haven’t been laid in so long it’s not funny, so just the thought of porn distracts me’ territory. Coughing, Dean straightens in his chair. Cas seems to register that Dean’s mind is back online.

“I asked what you like to read, Dean.”

Embarrassed that he was too distracted to hear the question, he shrugs. “Oh, I dunno, I kinda like the old Westerns, like L’Amour? Maybe a crime novel or two… and whatever category stuff like Kerouac and Vonnegut fit into.” He thinks for a minute, “I used to really enjoy action books, you know, like Tom Clancy? Ever since I’ve been back though, I dunno…” Shrugging, Dean gives up trying to express the thought.

Cas seems to understand, though. “I have found most media to be… overstimulating.” He looks into his lap. “I must confess, I can barely even watch the news.”

Dean chews on his bottom lip in thought. Yeah, he supposes a guy coming back from war with anxiety issues would have a hard time.

“You wanna know a secret?” He leans in closer, “I can’t really watch the news either. Gimme some sci-fi or fantasy, I’m cool. But make it real?” He shakes his head.

Cas nods, “I’m afraid even that is too much for me.”

With a sympathetic smile, Dean replies, “It does get easier, Cas. Just give it time.”

They sit in companionable silence for a while, each in their own heads.

After a moment, Cas asks, “Dean, how is your knee?”

“Oh, it’s okay. Still hurts, but the doc says I should be changing braces again in about a week or so.”

He flexes it slowly, showing the current range of flexibility. The therapist actually said it shouldn’t be hurting as much as it still does, but the damage seems to be healing as they expected. Dean had gotten a funny look when he’d argued against reducing the amount of pain medication he’s supposed to take. Asshole doesn’t know how much pain he’s in, and shouldn’t judge.

“I hate to presume, seeing as how you have trained professionals in charge of your recovery, but I suggest using the pool, when they allow brace-free exercise. There’s less stress on the joint.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Weird, that’s almost exactly what the therapist said. Well, they had spouted more medical-speak, and had used the term Aquatic Therapy. But it all came down to exercising in the pool. _Not if I have to take my shirt off in public_ , he thinks, his hand coming up unconsciously to touch the scar on his arm.

“There are exercises that don’t require you to immerse more than just your leg.”

Dean jerks his hand away from his scar and locks eyes for a moment, seeing sympathy Cas’ gaze. _Shit, don’t mention the scars, don’t mention the scars_ …

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to—”

Cas is cut off by Benny coming in, laden down with bags from Lowe’s. Dean has a feeling he’s going to hear from Bobby about letting the man use the business credit account. But he’s breathing a sigh of relief that now he won’t have to answer whatever Cas was about to ask. While Cas isn’t as jumpy around Benny anymore, he still gets up to leave, glancing at the clock.

“I believe I’ve wasted enough of your time.”

“Never a waste, Cas,” Dean says with a casual smile.

“Still, you have work to do.” Cas nods to both Dean and Benny, then heads toward the door.

“See you tomorrow?” Dean calls.

Cas turns and nods again, a small smile on his lips, then exits the building. As soon as the trenchcoat disappears, Dean’s digging in the desk for his pills. Benny eyeballs him with a raised eyebrow, watching him swallow a couple with water.

“What?”

Benny turns to put away supplies in the closet, speaking over his shoulder. “You’ll pop your pills in front of me, but not Cas?”

“He’s a resident.”

“Is this resident going to start stopping by every day again?”

“Dude’s just lonely. Besides, it’s my lunch break, I can spend it how I want.” Dean almost pouts.

“Whatever you say, Boss.” Benny comes back from the supply closet with a roll of teflon tape and a tube of caulking. “You gonna be my second set of hands for replacing that kitchen sink today?”

\---

Right before lunch on Tuesday, a woman in a suit can be seen walking around the complex. Dean hangs a “Be Right Back” sign and goes out to meet her. The woman is plain, wears glasses, and doesn’t seem to understand the meaning of a smile. When Dean greets her, she simply shakes his hand and introduces herself as Amanda Willer from Roman Enterprises. She hands him a business card, all black and shiny with raised red lettering. Dean asks why she’s here and she responds with an inquiry as to where the property line runs. When he asks why, the woman says they are simply surveying this and surrounding properties. He doesn’t get much more from the woman. After he finally manages to escort her off the property, which takes a while, his lunch time is more than halfway over. He’s got a scheduled showing coming up and now he’s gotta eat fast. While he’s reheating some leftover spaghetti, he calls Bobby to tell the man about the strange encounter. He doesn’t have a clue, either. Cas doesn’t show up and Dean thinks maybe he just missed him while escorting Miss Willer around the property.

The next day both Dean and Bobby call Roman Enterprises, repeatedly. They keep getting sent to voicemail boxes and no one seems to ever be in to accept a call, except for the occasional secretary. Bobby even makes a trip out to the property to go bother one of the surveyors working out in one of the fields down the street. They can’t give any more detail other than they are there to survey. Although, Benny says he knows what surveying gear looks like, and some of the equipment they’re using is much larger and more complicated than standard. The rest of the week is spent trying to unravel the mystery, and even Cas seems baffled by the activity when he stops by during Dean’s lunch breaks.

Early the next Monday, a courier delivers a thick envelope to the office. It’s addressed to Bobby, from Roman Enterprises. So Dean calls him, telling him about the package and to come over. When the man arrives and they finally get the package open, there’s a glossy black folder inside with a proposal to buy the property. The amount of zeroes on the offer is enough to make Bobby’s eyes goggle out of his head and he swears, loudly.

“I ain’t selling the property to no one, no matter what they’re offering, until I see what they’re gonna do with it.”

Bobby’s always been a stingy old coot, but Dean’s proud that the man isn’t willing to just take the money and kick everyone out if they’re just going to level the place. Unfortunately, they still haven't found out why the company wants the land. The contact listed on the proposal does return their call, but they hit a dead-end as to what they’re going to use the property for. Dean’s glad he’s the one to place the call, because the woman on the other end would have gotten an earful of Bobby’s colorful expletives otherwise.

After not hearing word by the end of Tuesday, Dean runs the proposal over to Sam’s office downtown. The Guardian Angels law firm is on 12th in between Main and Philips. It’s an amazing location, just a block away from the courthouse. Not to mention right down the street from some amazing places to eat. So maybe it’s not a coincidence that he shows up just before lunch. After very carefully pulling the Impala into an incredibly tiny parking space reserved for the law office, Dean heads inside the building the office shares with apartments.

Just inside the main hallway are the glass doors that lead to the law firm, a stylized angel with a trumpet painted in gold over the name. A pretty blonde in a tight button-up shirt is perched behind the reception desk, speaking into a headset. She never misses a beat in the conversation as she smiles at Dean and pushes a sign-in sheet towards him. While the receptionist, Candy according to her nameplate, finishes telling someone how to fill out some kind of form, Dean signs his name and leans over the desk, putting his best “hey, baby” face. Candy gives him a polite smile and looks down at his name as soon as she disconnects the call. Her smile goes from polite to wry as she recognizes his name.

“Mister Winchester is just finishing with a client, you can feel free to wait outside his office, third door on the left, just down the hall.”

Dean thanks her and only flicks his eyes down for half a second to peek at the cleavage on display. She doesn’t even blink, turning to type something on her keyboard, her eyes trained on the computer screen. He doesn’t know what to think, having barely gotten any reaction out of her. Usually he’ll at least get a flirty smile or an eyeroll depending on the type of girl he’s making eyes at.

He turns to walk down the hall, the large envelope with the proposal tucked under his arm. The place is impressively tasteful. There’s wainscoting painted a bright white, and the rest of the wall is a sunny, buttery yellow. Each door is a rich, golden colored wood with a large textured glass window. A brass plaque next to the door gives the name and title of whoever’s office it belongs to. At the third on the left, he sees:

**Sam Winchester  
Attorney at Law**

Grinning widely, Dean leans against the wall across from the office door. Sam got the education he deserved, has a great job, and is married to a beautiful wife that’s about to squeeze out a young’un. It’s so far removed from the life they were raised in, that sometimes Dean wonders when the other shoe’s going to drop. He compares their lives, his own to his kid brother’s, and Dean figures if he’s the one to get the shit end of the stick in return for Sammy having happiness and safety, he’d gladly do it all over again. It was Dean’s paychecks that went toward paying for what scholarships and grants couldn’t cover, and while Dean was in the Marines, almost all of his wages went to the kid.

The knob of Sam’s door turns, and Dean straightens as a Hispanic woman with a baby in her arms and two children in tow looks up at Sam, gushing thanks in Spanish. Sam smiles, his cheeks dimpling, and responds in somewhat rusty Americanized Spanish. After they watch the woman herd her children down the hall, Sam pulls Dean into a crushing hug, the smooth fabric of Sam’s suit is soft against Dean’s stubbly cheek. He can’t help but think his kid brother looks good. The gray suit has a kind of woven pattern in it, and the guy can actually pull off a light pink shirt, with a pink and gray striped tie.

“Dude, you secretly hoping Jess is gonna have a girl?”

Sam looks confused until he notices Dean’s goofy grin is directed at his shirt and tie. Smacking Dean on the shoulder, he leans against his desk, one hand gripping the edge, the other combing his ridiculously long hair back off his forehead. One of these days, Dean thinks, he’s gonna get some clippers.

“Did you bring the papers or what, Dean?”

Oh, right. He hands the envelope over, and Sam pulls the slick black folder out and flips through the papers inside. But Dean doesn’t want to wait for the giant to read the whole thing, he’s hungry.

“Dude, look through those later. It’s lunchtime, take your older brother out to eat.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam tosses the folder onto his desk. He keeps his office simple, the obligatory bookshelf full of law books on one side, his medium-sized desk in the middle. Heck, maybe it’s a large desk, but next to Sam’s towering self, it doesn’t look it.

“I need to go tell Gabe I’m heading out. You wanna come with, or wait?”

With a shrug, Dean says he’ll tag along, wanting to see some more of the office space. He’s only been here once before, and that was in the conference room right next to the reception desk. As they walk down the hall, he feels a little underdressed in is thin long-sleeve shirt, faded jeans and scuffed work boots. They reach the end of the hall where there’s a set of double doors, the same golden wood as the others, but with no windows. The brass plaque next to the door frame reads:

**Gabriel Milton  
Attorney at Large**

Dean rolls his eyes at the name plate as Sam knocks loudly on one of the doors. He pauses for a moment before calling, “Gabe? You in?” Both doors are thrown wide to reveal a short man with golden hazel eyes that glint mischievously, and floppy light brown hair. Dude must be getting hairstyling tips from Sam, even though it’s not nearly as long. He’s not wearing a suit, but is in a black polo shirt and dark jeans.

He grins widely, “Samsquatch! How’s it hangin’ big guy? Wife ready to pop yet?” Then he notices Dean and his smile grows even wider. “And you must be big brother Dean. Well… not bigger necessarily.” He sticks out his hand. “I’m the bossman, Gabriel Milton, but everyone just calls me Gabe.”

Dean reaches to shake, but then he hears a furious screech from down the hall.

“GABRIEL!”

The way the man’s face falls, you can almost hear the internal “uh-oh”.

The brothers turn to see a dark-skinned woman with flowing black hair stalk down the hall in high heels, a slim, short black skirt, and a red, sleeveless blouse. Sam automatically shifts off to one side, and Dean follows his example. The woman is shorter than Gabe, even with the heels. Her eyes almost seem to burn with fury, locked on the man right in her path.

“Kali, mērā pyāra*,” Gabriel says, with arms wide open and a smile on his face, but his eyes still look a little wild. “What a pleasant surprise!”

She walks straight up to him and pokes him in the chest with a bright red fingernail.

“I thought you were going to fire that woman,” she snarls with a frown.

“I don’t believe you’ve met Sam’s older brother Dean, have you?” He gestures to the two men off to the side.

Kali glances briefly at them, her eyebrow raised at Dean, who manages a small wave. Her focus quickly reorients on Gabriel.

“Why is she still working here?”

“What woman, priya*?” Gabe’s eyes widen, and he reaches out to touch her, resting his hands lightly at her elbows.

She jerks one arm free to point down the hallway. “That… kutiyā* at the front desk!”

“Hold that thought, would you dear?” He turns to look at the brothers. “Do you mind if…”

Sam seems to get the hint, “Sure, I was just going to tell you we were headed to lunch. That OK?”

Gabriel nods, and pulls his wife further into the office. “You mind closing the doors on your way out?”

Sam nods and drags Dean from the office, quickly closing the double doors. As soon as they’re shut, they can hear Kali start in on Gabe again. Dean turns to his brother and whistles.

“That’s one hell of a firecracker,” he says with a sly smile.

“Yeah, no kidding. Now let’s get out of here before they make up.” Sam says with his frightened puppy face.

Dean raises his eyebrows questioningly until he remembers an earlier conversation, about making up… loudly.

“Yeah, that sounds like an awesome idea, Sam.”

As they turn to leave, they hear through the door, “Because her _name_ is _Candy_!”

Once they’re settled in a cozy neighborhood restaurant, Dean says, “ _That_ was your boss’ _wife_?”

“Yeah, can you believe it?”

“How in the hell did those two meet?”

“Well, get this.” Sam leans forward. “She runs a homeless shelter in town. She wanted to open a separate women’s shelter and needed some legal advice. From what I’ve been told, she smacked him across the face at their first meeting, but kept coming back. A month later, they’re going out to dinner together, and a year after that, got married. So… I dunno, chemistry, I guess?”

Just then their server arrives and they place their orders. During lunch, their conversation shifts to the apartments and recent events. After Dean recounts the interesting actions of Castiel, Sam sits back in his seat with a thoughtful expression.

“Look Dean, I know he’s a veteran like you, but I really hope he’s not a danger to you or anyone else at the complex.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Think of it this way.” Sam’s eyebrows get that raised, concerned look. “What would have happened if Benny hadn’t been there? What would he have done to Krissy?”

Dean isn’t sure to if he should be indignant on Cas’ behalf. “What… Are you trying to say he’s a pervert? He was just restraining her!”

With his best sympathetic face, Sam tries again. “If I remember correctly, he tried to ‘exorcise’ her? And he has mental issues?” Dean crosses his arms, and Sam continues. “Just… be careful around the guy, okay? I know you seem to like him, but just remember he’s not exactly… stable.”

Frowning, Dean sits back in his seat. It’s not like Sam isn’t telling him anything he hadn’t already thought about himself, but hearing it come from someone else… Well, it’s a little irritating, because it seems Sam just assumes he hasn’t thought of it yet.

“Yeah, I hear you,” he pouts.

\---

Sam gets back in touch with Dean on Friday. He had to pull the “I’m a lawyer” card, but Roman Enterprises finally agrees to tell him what they’re planning. It seems the company is branching out into the food additives industry, and is buying up farmland to start growing corn for corn syrup. The apartment’s property and the undeveloped property just north of the complex will be used as the main office and processing facility. So yeah, everything’s going to be torn down. Needless to say, Dean is upset at the idea, and Bobby’s furious. He calls the company himself and tells them to stick their proposal “where the sun don’t shine”.

However, it appears their issues are just getting started. It starts with an inspection, after someone anonymously (and falsely) claimed a termite infestation. Then, Bobby gets a letter from the county, saying that the complex had been reported for ADA accessibility violations, and they need to fill out umpteen forms in triplicate, and all sorts of other freaking busywork. They have to prove that all the buildings were built before 1988, when the Fair Housing Act was amended to require that apartments must be built to accommodate disabilities.

Dean leaves most of the legal crap to Sam and Bobby, while he deals with his own private battles. The doctors and therapists say it’s time to switch to a plain cloth and neoprene brace, and that he’s basically fully recovered. As such, they refuse to refill his Vicodin prescription. When he asks them about pain management, they suggest he use over-the-counter shit like Advil or Aleve. When they offer a prescription for the higher-dose Ibuprofen, he turns them down. He realizes he might be able to use his source of Grunt Candy to find some Vicodin, and he stops pestering for pain pills and heads out.

He hasn’t been to the Roadhouse in a long time. When he pulls into the gravel parking lot of the old bar, it’s relatively dead, only a couple of cars in the lot. But then it’s in the early afternoon on a weekday. That, and it’s in a tiny town less than an hour on I-29 from Sioux Falls, near the Nebraska border. As Dean lets the squeaky door close behind him, he can smell stale smoke and old booze. It hits him with a wave of nostalgia, hanging out late at night, having drinks and hitting on women. To the right is a square bar, and a blonde woman in her mid-twenties is wiping the dark wood with a cloth. When she looks up, her eyes sparkle with recognition.

“Dean? Dean Winchester?”

He smiles with an incline of his head, and she grins widely, quickly making her way over to him. She gives him a big hug, and then backs up to get a good look at him.

“What the hell brings you here? Finally falling off the wagon?”

He smirks at her. “Nice to see you too, Jo. I was hoping Ash would be in?”

Jo frowns, “I think he’s in the back, let me go check.” She waves at a bar stool, “You hanging around for a while? Want a beer?”

He takes a seat on the stool and leans against the bar. “Nah, just stopping by, got a quick question for the man.”

With a wary look in her eye, she says she’ll be right back and disappears through a door. Dean takes the time to look around. The place hasn’t changed much, the stools are still all mismatched, the old pool table seems even more worn, the felt on its surface almost completely threadbare. While he’s looking around, another door opens and a woman in her forties, with a crate full of pint glasses, enters the room. Absently, she calls out, “Be right with you.” When she sets down the crate, she looks up at dean and does a double take.

“Well, as I live and breathe, look what the cat dragged in.”

Wearing a smile that could mirror what Jo’s will look like in about twenty years, she comes over and pats Dean on the shoulder.

“Hey, Ellen,” Dean says softly, remembering all the times she had to physically take his keys away when he was too drunk to drive home. The woman’s stronger than she looks.

“I ain’t seen you in almost two years. You start drinkin’ again?” She looks him over with a worried expression.

Closing his eyes, he huffs and shakes his head. “No, Jo’s out back looking for Ash for me.”

The frown Ellen gives him is so close to Jo’s it’s frightening. “I don’t want to know why you need to talk to him, but you know my rules, Dean.”

He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. Ash has been working on and off for Ellen as soon as he was old enough to drink, his parents have been friends with the Harvelles for years. After he got kicked out of M.I.T. for “fighting”, he became an almost permanent fixture in the establishment. If you need something that can’t be found anywhere else, he’s the guy to go to. Ellen tries to keep him from doing anything illegal inside the bar, but she knows why people come and ask for him in person, and why they go out to his van behind the bar.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise, I just ran low on a prescription and need it topped off.” He pats his leg, still obviously in his old brace.

She side-eyes him with pursed lips, heading behind the bar to put glasses away. He knows that disapproving look, it was the same one she always gave him right before cutting him off for the night. He leans back against the bar, hoping to placate her.

“You got a cold bottle of root beer back there somewhere?” he asks with raised eyebrows.

Ellen smiles softly, digs under the bar and produces a brown glass bottle, pops the top off and sets it in front of him, on a coaster. Dean tilts the bottle at her in salute, and takes a swig, looking around the bar, taking in the old man quietly working his way through a pitcher in the corner. It’s a couple more minutes before Jo re-emerges with a scrawny man with a mullet and wearing ragged jeans with a sleeveless flannel button-up. He swaggers up to Dean and they clasp hands, then the man pulls him into a quick back-slapping hug.

“Doctor Badass, at your service.” He flicks his hair over his shoulder.

Dean snorts a quick laugh. Ever since Ash came back from his attempt at higher education, he’s used that terrible moniker. But having hung out with the guy after consuming a half bottle of real Absinthe and smoking a fat one in the back of the guy’s van, he can see how the name can be appropriate. He leans forward, so only Ash can hear.

“I could use a prescription, Doc.”

“Well then, why don’t we go step into my office?”

Dean follows him down a hallway to a door that says, “Dr. Badass is:” with a little dangling sign that can be turned to say either “in” or “out”. Ash flips it to the “in” side and opens the door, leading Dean through a room with a small bed on one side, and a ridiculously overpowered computer setup that looks held together with bubblegum and twine on the other, his screensaver showing two luchadores wrestling. He follows Ash right out the door in the back, where his van is parked, its back doors facing the building. When he opens those doors, it creates an enclosed space.

Ash leans against the bumper of his van, looking at Dean’s knee brace. “I take it you need more than your usual Ibuprofen this time?”

“Yeah, docs cut me off from my Vic’ when they said I was all better. But this shit still hurts, man.”

With a nod, Ash digs around in an old pillowcase. “You don’t wanna upgrade to Oxy?”

When Dean shakes his head, Ash nods. “Good man, stick with what you need.” He shuffles through the pillowcase some more. “I got the tens, what you been using?”

“Seven and a half.”

Ash purses his lips, and then nods, withdrawing a bottle full of pills. “Just realize these got a stronger kick, alright?”

After a brief discussion and an exchange of product and cash, Ash locks up his van and disappears back into the bar. Dean has to walk all the way around, out of respect to Ellen’s wishes. As he makes his way home, the weight of the amber-colored plastic bottle in his pocket is comforting. He stops at the office to check messages and take care of any lingering paperwork before closing up and heading to his apartment.

******

Castiel sits in his bedroom, frustrated at himself. Ever since hearing about the shooting in Aurora, Colorado, he’s been struggling. It’s less than a day’s drive from there to his apartment. And everyone wants to talk about it. He’s stopped watching television almost entirely, and even during his weekly session, his therapist wanted to know how he was reacting to it. How is he supposed to react when such violence occurs so close to home? Add to that the Sikh temple shooting in Wisconsin… Oak Creek is even closer. He has Anna promise to call him during lunch breaks and on her way home, so he knows she’s alright.

Even Dean wanted to talk about the Aurora shooting, but luckily Castiel’s talk of the Higgs boson particle distracted the man. It’s too bad Dean didn’t want to talk about that, though, it’s rather fascinating. The idea that the discovery of such a particle can affect what is currently known about physics, even the nature of the entire universe…

He looks down at his bedspread, runs his fingers along the mottled green cover. At least he’s been continuing his walks, although they have definitely become more of a patrol than anything, checking the property perimeter, looking for threats. After catching those responsible for the graffiti, it’s been quiet, though.  However, that’s no reason to become lax in his vigilance.

And then there’s Dean. Castiel is increasingly concerned that the man might be developing a dependency to his pain medication. Something always seems to keep him from mentioning it, though. So he tries to keep an eye on the man, stopping by the office to check on him during his mid-day walks. Over the past few days however, Dean had become more distracted by the increased activity of a corporation around the property. Apparently, Roman Enterprises wishes to purchase the apartments and surrounding land. When Dean assured him that Bobby Singer would not sell the property, Castiel was relieved. He’s just gotten comfortable in his apartment, he’d hate to have to move again anytime soon. The stress of the first apartment search was almost too much for him.

Castiel had found Dean out of the office again when he stopped by after making his rounds. He was beginning to worry when the man had not seemed to return until late in the afternoon, as Castiel has discovered he can see where Dean parks the Impala through his sister’s bedroom window. When he sees that the car has returned, he relaxes marginally, hoping the man is alright. Should he go check on him, just in case? No… no, that would just be too much, he’ll see how the man is doing tomorrow.

They’re supposed to get a break in the weather, too. After weeks in the mid-to-upper nineties, the temperature finally dropped down into the eighties and should stay that way for a while. Even though Castiel has adapted to wearing his trenchcoat in the stifling heat, the lower temperatures will be a nice change. Maybe he’ll just take an evening stroll, make sure Dean is alright in his apartment. He won’t even have to knock, just make sure he’s there and safe.

***

Late in the morning on a Saturday, Dean responds to a knock on his door to find Benny, arms crossed and frowning at him.

“What?” Dean scratches the scruff on his cheek, then rubs his eyes from where he had been dozing on the couch.

Benny pushes his way into the apartment, and makes a disgusted face as he looks around Dean’s living space. Okay, so maybe Dean hasn’t cleaned in a couple of days. When Benny finishes his survey of his surroundings to look Dean up and down, his frown deepens, and the sonuvabitch has that _judgmental_ look on his face. Dean looks down, noting his shirt’s stained in a couple of places. So what? It’s his day off, and if he needs to go do something, he can change clothes.

“What,” he repeats.

Benny crosses his arms and gives him a hard stare. “When’s the last time you cleaned in here?”

Well, that’s a dumb question, it would have been… Huh. The last time he remembers picking up was last weekend, when Benny pulled the same stunt, but with less bitchface. He looks around at the beer bottles, discarded clothes, and the pizza boxes piled up on the kitchen counter. He turns to face Benny again, and the man raises an eyebrow at him, which just pisses him off. Dean puffs out his chest and crosses his own arms, mirroring the man in front of him.

“What’s it to you?”

He watches as Benny closes his eyes, sighs deeply, and drops his arms.

“Last week, I stopped by, and it was about the same. And the week before that.” He doesn’t mention it’s been almost every week since Ben left that he’s had to come over and help Dean clean up. “You seein’ a pattern here, Brother?”

“It’s not that bad,” Dean mumbles.

Cocking his head back, Benny raises his eyebrows. “Oh, really? Then tell me, when’s the last time you hauled a trash bag outta here without me helpin’ you fill it? Have you even taken the last load outta the dryer since last week?”

Pouting, Dean scrunches his eyebrows, making a face. Okay, so maybe he hasn’t cleaned up on his own in a while, but he has taken the clothes out of the dryer… to wear them. There might be a couple pairs of underwear and a towel or two still in there, but still.  He juts his chin out defiantly.

“Still don’t see what it’s got to do with you.”

With a sigh, Benny drags Dean over to the couch and sets him down, sitting across from him. “Alright, listen. We’ve been friends for a while, right?” Dean nods. “Okay. And as your friend, I worry about when my friend obviously has something wrong goin’ on in his life. Do you remember when you let me stay here for a while, until I could get my own place?”

Of course Dean remembers, it was only a couple of months ago. He’s the one who insisted he stay there. He says so.

“Right, so… When I stayed with you, it was freakin’ clean in here, man. Nothing out of place. And when Ben came, it got a little messy, but this? There’s something wrong, and I wanna help you.”

There’s a slow throbbing building up behind Dean’s temples, and he closes his eyes, pressing his fingers through his hair. So he’s been a little sloppy lately? It’s not a big deal. If he needs anything, it’s for Benny to shut his damn trap so this burgeoning headache will go away. He opens his eyes, focusing on Benny’s pale blue ones.

“You know how you can help me, Benny?” Dean growls out, watching as the man’s eyebrows raise. “You can get the hell out, and let me enjoy my fucking day off in peace, however the fuck I goddamn choose.”

The shocked look that appears across Benny’s face is almost funny. Kinda like he’s been slapped with… slapped with a fish. Dean snorts at the visual his mind drags up at the thought.

“Brother, are you high on somethin’?” Benny’s expression shifts back to concerned, as he checks Dean over. “How many of your pain pills have you taken today?”

That causes Dean to get angry. Why is everyone so damn concerned about how much pain medication he’s been taking? He sets his jaw and whispers threateningly, “If you want to still have a job come Monday, get the hell out, now.”

Holding up his hands in surrender, Benny slowly stands up and makes his way to the door. “Just, if you wanna talk about anything, you know where to find me, right?” At the sight of Dean’s sneer, he quickly closes the door, leaving him alone.

Dean sits for a moment, head in his hands as he gets himself under control. Shit, what if Benny goes and bugs Bobby about this? He looks around the room. Yeah, maybe it’s a little messy but it’s nothing major. His gaze lands on a shirt thrown over the arm of a chair, and he suddenly gets very annoyed. Better clean up a little, last thing he needs is to have Bobby come in here thinking there’s some damn problem to deal with.

When he stands up, a wave of lightheadedness washes over him, a reminder of why he had laid down on the couch in the first place. Maybe he just ate something bad. With that thought in mind, he grabs a trash bag and sweeps everything on the counter into it, then digs through his fridge to dump all the half-eaten containers in there as well. A quick sweep through the living room, and he’s collected all the errant beer bottles. By the time he’s crammed an armful of clothes into the washer, he’s feeling a little queasy, so he throws himself onto the couch, waiting for the dizziness to pass. _Maybe I’m coming down with a summer flu or something_ , he tells himself, flopping over onto his side, an arm dangling off with his hand dragging on the floor. _I’ll just rest for a bit, then take out the trash_ , he tells himself, his eyes closing.

When he wakes up, he has a small sandwich with his pills before continuing his cleaning spree. By the time he makes it out to the dumpster with his bags and his bin of bottles, it’s late afternoon. He realizes it’s not that hot outside. The sun is hidden by dark clouds, and it looks like they might get an evening thunderstorm. Maybe the pressure change is why he’s getting a headache, too. When he goes back inside, he can smell the lingering odor of old food and dirty sweat. He wonders if that’s the smell Benny walked into earlier, suddenly understanding part of the problem. He spends the rest of the evening giving every horizontal surface a wipedown or a vacuuming. He finds socks and underwear in the oddest places. When he’s done, just in case, he sprays some of that industrial deodorizer he uses for move-outs, gagging at the strong citrus scent.

The sun is low on the horizon now, and he steps onto his patio to get away from the strong stink of air freshener. While he’s rocking back on two legs of his chair, he sees a familiar trenchcoat in the golden light. When the man is a little closer, Dean waves him over.

“How’s it going, Cas?” he says when the man is close enough to be heard without yelling.

The man’s eyebrows scrunch together, and he shrugs slightly in his coat. “ _It_ still isn’t going anywhere, but I am glad the weather has become milder in recent days.”

Dean smirks at the comment, remembering another time he asked Cas that, except now Cas is the visitor. He waves at the other chair on the patio. “Sit for a while, tale a load off.”

Cas shifts back and forth on his feet a moment, as if debating the thought, before carefully settling in the chair. The man sits stiffly with his back straight. _Dude needs to relax_ , Dean thinks.

“Hey, you want a beer or something?”

Cas stares at him wide-eyed, his eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

“You know, a beer? To drink? You want one?”

Cas’ mouth opens and then closes, his forehead developing a crease. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dean.”

Shit, dude probably can’t drink with his meds. “That's cool, I’m just gonna grab one for myself, maybe throw together a sandwich. You want anything? Soda? Juice?”

“I think some water will be fine, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Smiling, Dean points a finger at him. “Stay right there, I’m just gonna grab a couple of things and be right back.”

After he gets a nod from Cas, he dashes back inside to throw together a quick sandwich, grabs a bottle of beer and a water, then snags a bag of chips on his way back to the sliding glass door. Before he heads back out, he puts everything down, digs his bottle out of his pocket, and swallows a Vicodin. Then he scoops it all back up, heading out to see Cas is still sitting exactly as he left him. Using his big toe, he hooks a leg of the little patio table and drags it between them, then sets everything down on it.

When he hands Cas the cold bottle of water, it’s accepted graciously, and the man takes a sip from it before staring out into the faded light. They sit in comfortable silence while Dean devours his sandwich, then digs into the chips. He offers the bag to Cas, but he declines. When Dean suspects he’s acting like a pig in front of the man, he rolls down the top of the bag and sets it aside, sipping on the last of his beer. After a moment, Cas finally speaks.

“Is there a reason you seem to smell like… lemons?” His head tilts to the side, an inquisitive look on his face.

Dean barks out a short laugh. “Yeah, sorry about that, was cleaning earlier.”

Cas shakes his head. “No, it’s not bad, just… different.”

A light rain starts to fall, and they watch as stray droplets land on the edge of the covered patio. While they’re sitting quietly, a ringing starts in Dean’s ears. He’s had the dull ringing of after a concert before, but this is different, as the surrounding sounds aren’t muffled by the high-pitched hum building in his head. Cracking his jaw and sticking a finger in one ear seems to help, and he shakes his head just as Cas opens his mouth.

“Dean…”

With another shake of his head, like he’s trying to dislodge water, he turns to face him. “Yeah?”

“I… was wanting to ask you…”  The guy seems to be having a hard time spitting it out, so he waits patiently. “How… how’s your leg? I notice you’re not wearing the brace.”

Wow, it took that much to mention his damn knee? “It’s fine Cas. Docs say I’m all healed up, they gave me a regular sports brace for days I need it, and they cut me off my meds.”

Cas’ shoulders sag, almost in relief, and his eyes widen. What the hell?

“I’m… glad that your leg is better, I was actually becoming concerned…”

Aww, hell no, he’s not going to bring that shit up too? Suddenly Dean’s glad he took his latest pill out of sight. His mouth is tight when he speaks, “What were you concerned about, Cas?”

The man’s hands twist together in his lap. “Well, as long as you were on the pain medication, I was getting concerned you might end up developing… a… ummm…” he trails off.

Dean’s jaw is twitching now, his teeth clamped tight. “What? An addiction?”

Cas’ eyes look away off to the side. “It’s not uncommon, and now that you’re off of them, you seem fine, so…”

Lip drawn up in a silent snarl, Dean stands. “Yep, just peachy here, Cas. So, I think I need to head back in now, things to do and all. You need an umbrella for the rain?” His voice is flat as he tries to control his anger.

Cas stands up, eyes wide at the sudden shift in Dean’s behavior. Squinting, he leans in closer, looking him in the eye, making Dean back up.

“I’ll take that as a no, then. Talk to you later, alright Cas?” He slams the sliding door in Cas’ face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *mērā pyāra: my love
> 
> *priya: sweetheart
> 
> *kutiyā: bitch


	7. Birth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: addiction & symptoms, child birth,

Castiel closes the door of his apartment behind him, shucking off his trenchcoat, damp with the light drizzle of rain outside. With a sigh, he swipes a hand through his hair, making it spike, and trudges up to his room. He had hoped that Dean was recovering and was not in need of the prescribed pain medication, but was apparently wrong. After Dean’s behavior just moments before, he’s worried. A look in Dean’s eyes, even in the soft glow of the porch light, showed constricted pupils, and he could make out the nuances of green and gold in the man’s eyes. Those were not the eyes of a man no longer on pain medication. And if Castiel could remember correctly, from one of the times he actually saw the prescription bottle, it was Hydrocodone. Even if it’s one of the milder ones, it’s still a highly addictive opiate narcotic.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he wonders what he can do. If Dean is addicted to his pain medication, then it’s a tremendous problem. Dean had said the doctors aren’t refilling his prescription, so is he still using what is left over, or has he found an illegal source? Considering the reaction to Castiel’s inquiry, he’s afraid of that answer. He remembers the comfortable way they had sat on the porch together. It's been quite a while since he could simply feel comfortable in someone’s presence, other than Anna. Could he consider Dean a friend? If so, he needs to do what he can to help the man. Thinking, he begins to strip, heading into the bathroom to turn on the water for a shower.

\---

On Monday he gets his opportunity, when he sees Benny coming out of a neighbor’s apartment, toolbox in hand. He cracks his front door to get his attention.

“ _Benny_ ,” he whispers loudly.

The man turns around to look, and Castiel sticks his hand out to wave him over. With an inquisitive look, Benny stands in front of the door, staring back at the sliver of man visible.

“You got something that needs fixin’?”

Castiel pauses, not sure how to continue. “…of sorts… Do… do you mind coming in for a moment?”

He backs away from the door, wringing his hands as Benny comes in and closes the door behind him. He looks around, then back at Castiel, who waves him toward a chair. “P-please, have a seat.” With a confused expression, Benny sets his tool box down and sits on the edge of the chair.

“So, what exactly needs fixin’?”

Castiel paces for a moment, not quite sure how Benny will react. Dean had mentioned they were friends, and that Benny was an overall good guy. But would he be angry at the suggestion of Dean possibly having an addiction? Steeling himself, he turns toward the man and speaks quickly to get it out, hands clenched into fists and eyes locked on his feet.

“I think Dean’s addicted to his pain medication.”

He gets silence in response, and he’s afraid he blew it. When he looks up, he can see Benny’s mouth in a tight line, and the frown line between his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, just… forget I said anything… It’s not my place…”

Benny holds up a hand to stop his rambling, and looks him in the eye.  “Are you sure?”

Shocked at the question, Castiel answers, “Well, I can’t be until I know if he’s still taking it, and how much, but I have been trained to recognize the symptoms, so…”

He gets a nod from the other man. “I was afraid of that, too. He’s been taking too much, and is distracted. You shoulda seen what his place looked like when I went over there Saturday.”

Castiel’s eyes widen, another puzzle piece fitting into place. “I sat on his porch with him that evening, he said he had been cleaning.”

With a sigh, Benny places his hands on his thighs and pushes himself up off the chair. He picks up his tools and turns to Castiel, a serious look on his face.

“Just, don’t do anything right now, okay?” Castiel tilts his head in confusion, and Benny continues. “I know how he reacts to things, and it’s gotta be handled carefully.” The man scratches his ear. “Don’t confront him or anything, okay? He doesn’t take that well. I’ll… figure out something.”

Castiel purses his lips, thinking over what Benny’s just told him. Making a serious face, he looks directly at him. “I understand you are Dean’s friend, and want to help, but don’t want to upset him too much. Just don’t take too long. The longer this goes, the worse it will get.”

Benny nods, “You got a deal.” He holds hot his hand to shake. Castiel freezes a moment, then slowly reaches out to grasp the man’s firm, calloused hand. After a couple of shakes, Benny lets go and silently turns, exiting the apartment. While Castiel is still anxious, he feels as if a small burden has been lifted in confiding with Benny.

***

Dean’s not having a good day. He’s got a headache that won’t go away, and he’s short-tempered with Benny. Two hours of the morning are wasted while waiting on a scheduled apartment viewing that never arrives. Cas doesn’t come by around lunch-time, and he’s kind of glad for it, even if he does miss the odd conversations. After lunch, when Benny comes into the office, there’s a tension in the air. He notices the unlabeled bottle Dean is using for his new pills, but doesn’t say anything. Dean can feel the judgment behind the man’s eyes, though. They have a short, clipped conversation about the toilet Benny fixed in number 45. And it’s only Monday.

Tuesday, Bobby calls and says they need to make sure Benny gets his electrician’s license updated for South Dakota, because someone’s been digging into personnel files and reported them. It seems like Roman Enterprises is playing dirty ball, trying to break them into submission by overloading them with complaints and legal paperwork. This means Bobby comes by more often, usually to spend time on the phone with Sam. Actually, he spends most of his time on the phone with Kevin, the law office’s summer intern. Kid apparently just graduated from high school and is going to Princeton in the fall. He’s got a knack for deciphering legalese for the old man, too.

Bobby is starting to give Dean the hairy eyeball. Did Benny say something to him about the pills? Probably did, the no-good snitch. After a particularly frustrating day where Bobby tries to navigate the online county taxes system, Dean tells the man to just go home.

Cas comes by on Wednesday, but when he sees Bobby swearing at the computer, he heads right back out the door. Dean wishes he could do the same.

By the end of the week, he feels like he’s going to snap. Bobby’s been hanging around the office like an old hunting dog chasing a day-old trail. He loves the old man to death, but they get on each other’s nerves quickly. Add to that how Benny’s watching him  like a freaking hawk, and it’s just too much. He feels like he has to hide whenever he takes his pills, and he swears Benny can tell, staring down his nose at him.

Late Saturday morning, Dean’s watching reruns of Dark Angel when his phone rings. Sam’s calling, so he mutes the TV and answers, “Hey, what’s up, bitch?” fully expecting to receive a “Jerk” in response.

“Oh God, Dean!”

Sam’s voice, both panicked and excited, has him sitting up and ready to haul ass if need be.

“Sammy? What’s wrong?”

He hears his brother take a shaky breath. “Jess, in labor, contractions, baby’s coming!”

Holy shit, it’s happening. “Where are you now?” He pushes up off the couch and rushes to go pull some jeans on.

Sam’s voice seems to have leveled out a bit and he’s able to speak complete sentences. “We’re at the hospital. She started early this morning during the thunderstorm, but it was, um, what they call pre-labor or something? She insisted on waiting until the contractions got stronger. We just got here.”

Dean has his phone crammed between his shoulder and ear as he tries to shove his legs into a pair of jeans. “Alright, little bro, hang tight. You call Bobby yet?”

“No, you’re the first.”

“Okay, you call Jess’ parents, I’ll get Bobby.” He grabs a thin overshirt and grabs his keys, shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers. “See you soon, alright?”

Sam’s relieved voice answers, “Thanks, Dean.”

On his way out the door, Dean calls Bobby, says he’ll meet him in the maternity ward. Two hours later, they’re wondering why they rushed. Of course, they’re there for moral support, but Jess is semi-comfortable, resting in a hospital bed between her contractions which are a little over five minutes apart. Sam stays by his wife’s side, holding her hand and doing everything he can to make her comfortable. Dean and Bobby take turns pacing up and down the hallway, having gotten over the initial rush of ‘ohmygod, labor, baby’.

Later in the afternoon, Bobby’s taking a nap in the lobby, and Jess is still in a holding pattern, although her contractions are closer together, and much stronger. Sam’s stuck right by her side, holding her hand, whispering encouragements, grinning like an idiot whenever he’s not wearing his concerned frown or breathing with her during the contractions. Dean wonders what it would have been like if he’d been there when Ben was born. Would he have held Lisa’s hand like that? Helped her breathe? Eased each other’s fears? His phone pings with a text from Benny.

_-Anything happening yet?_

_-Nope, will let you know. Glad I’m not a woman tho._

His knee is getting a little stiff from sitting down, so he gets up to stretch, maybe get a coffee, take a pain pill. While he’s down at the cafeteria, staring at the Vicodin in his hand, he wonders how much pain going into labor causes. He had read somewhere that the body releases all these hormones or something to make the experience not seem as bad after. Popping the pill and swallowing some particularly bitter brew to chase it, he thinks about his own pain management, and just briefly has a thought that maybe he should cut back. Concerned blue eyes flash through his mind, before he gets up and heads back up to the maternity ward.

Right around seven, the contractions start getting closer and the nurses say something about dilation. Jess explained it to him once, showing a diagram of how wide the “birth canal” gets, _before_ the baby tries to come out. It made him wig out a bit. So while the nurses get her prepped to send off to the delivery room, Dean quietly disappears into the waiting room, where Bobby is already seated, reading an outdated magazine.

A couple hours later, Sam comes out, dressed in a big, yellow apron thing, grinning from ear to ear. Dean stands up and gets a crushing hug, then it’s Bobby’s turn.

“I’m a daddy! We’ve got a baby boy!”

Tears leak from Sam’s eyes unnoticed, his joy practically radiating off of him. He also looks in danger of falling over, so Dean forces him to sit in a chair. This prompts Sam to go into a long ramble of what it was like, much to both Dean’s and Bobby’s discomfort. Even Sammy isn’t immune to the wonders of birth, and almost passed out when he saw the baby’s head. After a nurse lowered him into a seat with his head between his knees, he stayed up next to Jess, letting her wring the life out of his hand.

When a nurse comes to say that Jess is back in her room, Dean and Bobby follow Sam, watching the man’s face light up at the sight of his new family. Jess’ hair is damp, her face splotchy from exertion. But the tender look she’s giving the tiny bundle in her arms… Nope, Dean is not gonna cry over a baby being born, he’s just not. Sam’s already doing that, pressing kisses to his wife’s hair, and gently stroking the baby. He looks to see Bobby with his mouth scrunched up in a frown staring at the ceiling as he tries to hold back his own waterworks. Clearing his throat, Dean elbows Bobby in the ribs before coming closer and taking a better look.

The baby is all red-faced, eyes closed, with a tiny wisp of hair on his crown. He stares in awe at the miniscule fingers, bunched into fists. To think a person starts out so small. He thinks of pictures he’s seen of Ben from when he was a newborn, and he feels a little twinge that he never really got to see him like this.

Jess looks up and asks softly, “Do you want to hold him?”

Dean stares at her wide-eyed, then down at his own hands, suddenly seeming too large, then down at the tiny baby. _That is a human being_. Coughing and clearing his throat with a look to the side, he scratches the back of his head and says, “Uhm… maybe later?”

She gives him a soft smile, resting her head on the pillows piled up behind her. Not much long after, he and Bobby leave, giving Jess a chance to rest and Sam some time with the new Winchester. Bobby offers to treat him to dinner, so they find a little diner that’s still open. They eat in relative silence, occasionally grinning like idiots, before heading their own ways home.

The next day, they’re at Sam’s house, waiting for the family’s arrival home. He watches as Sam drives as slow as possible down the street, then crawls up the driveway to come to a tentative stop in the garage. Sam carries the new baby inside like he’s made of spun glass, and Dean offers his arm to Jess, which she graciously accepts. Bobby follows behind a moment later with the bags of things they brought from the hospital.

While Dean watches Sam try to change the baby's tiny diaper, he asks Sam what they named him.

“Thomas John Winchester,” Sam mumbles.

Smiling, Dean claps Sam on the back, and gets a smile in return. When Sam finally gets the diaper on relatively straight, Dean leans over his shoulder.

“You know, when you have another one, you should call it Justice.”

And there’s the bitchface, just as expected. “What? It’s appropriate, seeing as how you’re a lawyer and all.”

Sam threatens to throw a diaper at him, and he exits the baby’s room, cackling. Dean and Bobby stay long enough to help fix a late lunch/early dinner, then leave the new parents with their sleeping baby. But not before getting a camera and phone full of pictures. Jess’ parents are flying in tomorrow, and will be practically smothering them for at least a week.

\---

By Wednesday the next week, Sam needs out of the house, having heard enough of his mother-in-law basically saying he’s doing _everything wrong_. But since he’s supposed to be working from home, on leave to help with the baby, he ends up hiding in Dean’s office for the day. For lunch, Sam offers to go out and pick up something.

“If you’re buying, and you’re gonna hang here afterwards, for the love of all that’s holy, do NOT get burritos!” Dean leans back in his chair, flapping some take-out fliers. “I’m not smelling you for the rest of the day after you eat Mexican.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam looks through the menus and eventually they decide on Chinese. After Dean calls it in, bitching about having to order freaking _tofu_ , Sam goes to pick it up. While Dean’s cleaning his desk off to make a place to eat, he catches Cas hanging out just outside the door, hand raised like he was going to knock and paused halfway there. When he sees Dean looking back at him, he yanks his hand back and starts to scuttle off. Dean, suddenly feeling guilty for the way he basically slammed a door in the guy’s face last time over a week ago, rushes over and calls for him.

“Hey, Cas! Wait a minute!” He has to go chase him down because he’s already halfway around the building.

“Cas!” When he catches up, he grabs the guy’s shoulder to turn him around, and he can’t help but notice the flinch.

“Hey, I… um, wanted to say, sorry for last time.”

Cas looks at him, eyes wide and jaw a little slack.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean continues, “I can be a bit of a dick.”

With a tiny upturn of the mouth, Cas turns to face him fully.

“So… you wanna come in, have a seat? Getting kinda warm, could get you a cold bottle of water?”

The smile grows just a little wider, and Cas nods. Dean leads him back inside, and gets him a bottle of  water from the back of the fridge, where he swears it’s colder. After Cas has a couple of sips, Dean tells him about Sam’s new baby. Excited about being an uncle, he whips out his phone to show him pictures. After a couple of photos, Cas scrunches up his face, turning his head to look at the picture of the sleeping newborn.

“I don’t understand, why newborn babies look like they do.”

Dean pulls the phone back and looks at the picture himself. “Whaddya mean, Cas?”

“Babies…” Cas takes the phone back, turning it to make the baby be right-side-up, “look a little bit like grumpy old men.”

Snorting, Dean grabs the phone, takes a good look, and doubles up with laughter.

“You know, dude? You kind of have a point there.” He sighs, placing the phone on the desk, “Just don’t tell my brother that.”

They flick through a couple more pictures, and Dean points out his brother and Jess. By the time Sam comes back, he’s sitting in the other guest chair, next to Cas.

“Winchester Lunch Delivery!” Sam calls as he comes through the door with bags of takeout.

Cas freezes, his back stiffening at the sound of the voice behind him. Dean notices, and turns to give Sam a half-smile, his eyes on Cas.

“Hey, you get to meet my brother!” He turns to face Sam, “Sammy, this is Cas,” and then he looks at the man next to him. “Cas, this is my not-so-little brother, Sam.”

Cas stands up hurriedly, turning to face Sam, with an oddly flat expression. Sam hands the bags of food to Dean, and smiles, holding his hand out to shake.

“Hi, Dean’s told me about you, and how you caught the taggers. Nice to meet you.”

Cas stares at the hand for a while, his forehead creasing in what looks like consternation. Sam looks like he’s beginning to feel foolish, but then Cas reaches out, grasping his hand, staring at it the whole time as Sam gives it a quick shake and lets go, obviously a little uncomfortable with the whole interaction.

“Dean’s told me about you, as well. Congratulations on your new child,” Cas says.

Sam beams at the mention of his baby boy, and Dean relaxes a little, glad that the awkwardness is now hopefully over. He turns to set down the bags on the desk, pulling out the to-go containers.

“You wanna hang around, have a little lunch? I always order enough for leftovers, so there’ll be plenty.”

He notices Cas sidestep towards the door.

“Oh, I… Um, would hate to impose. I should—”

Grabbing the man by the arm, Dean steers him back in the direction of the chair.  

“No imposition, Cas. Just have a seat and pick what you like. I’m sure Sammy’ll be happy to share some of his hippie rabbit food with you, too. Right, Sam?”

Blinking confusedly until he remembers about Cas’ “issues”, Sam fumbles out, “Y-yeah, sure Cas. Take what you like. We can all share.”

He watches Cas stand in front of his chair, looking at the containers as  Dean opens them, fragrant steam escaping with the scents of lo mein, stir-fried vegetables, sweet and sour sauce, and spicy beef.

“Umm,” Sam starts, “If you have issues with MSG, they made mine without, and there’s plenty of rice.”

Cas looks at Sam like he doesn’t understand why he’s being nice. “Thank you for the offer, I don’t have any particular difficulty though.”

Grinning because he got Cas to hold still in front of practically a stranger, Dean gets out three plates and some silverware from a cabinet. He passes them around, and Cas declines a fork in favor of the packaged chopsticks. They all sit with Sam and Dean offering Cas first dibs on any dish available. He peruses the containers, and decides to start with just a little of Sam’s vegetables and tofu, spooned over a mound of rice. Dean facepalms.

“Et tu, Castiel?”

Sam grins, leaning over to Cas to whisper, “If you want any of the beef, I suggest getting some now. He usually eats like it’s his last day on earth, and meat always goes first.”

Dean pauses, a forkful of spicy beef already halfway to his mouth, straight out of the container. He stays like that, his mouth open for a beat, before lowering the fork and offering the container to Cas. The man lowers his gaze to his lap.

“I don’t… if it’s your favorite dish, then I shouldn’t…”

Without another thought, Dean grabs Cas’ plate, deciding he’s going to load him up properly. When it returns to its place, there’s sweet and sour pork on top of lo mein, a pile of spicy beef, and some of the broccoli and carrots that came with it in a rich brown sauce. The small pile of vegetables and tofu over rice has been pushed to the side, dwarfed by the amounts of everything else.

Now _that’s_ how you do lunch, Dean thinks.

“There, that’s a proper sampling. Now eat up!”

Cas looks at the amount of food on his plate in awe, and maybe a little dismay. Sam looks at him with sympathy.

“You don’t have to eat all of it, you know. Dean just gets a little overeager.”

“Hey!”

Cas gets another one of those small smiles on his face and stares down at his plate. “Thank you, both of you. I… wasn’t expecting anything like this.”

Dean can feel a blush start. “It’s just some lunch, dude. No need to get weepy over it.” He frowns and starts stuffing spicy beef into his mouth.

Sam smiles, picking up his own plate and spoons some of his dish into it, adding rice on the side. Cas slowly works through most of the vegetables on his plate, and some of the meat and noodles. He’s actually really good at using chopsticks, and Dean makes a fool of himself when he accidentally flicks a piece of baby corn at Sam, trying to use a pair. Of course, he pretends it’s on purpose, and he gets a really deep bitchface from his brother in the process.

After Cas has eaten as much as he can handle, he pushes his half-empty plate away. Both Sam and Dean are still eating, with Dean occasionally talking around a mouthful of food. When the subject of the newborn comes up, Cas spouts out the craziest and most random factoid.

“By the way, August eighteenth happens to be the same day that John White returned to Roanoke, to find the entire colony had disappeared, with nothing but the word Croatoan carved into a post as a clue.”

Sam and Dean stare at him blankly.

“I believe that was also the date the first English child was born in the Americas as well, also part of the Roanoke colony.”

Dean just blinks at him, before turning to his brother who is trying his damndest to think of something intelligent as a response.

All Dean can think to say is, “Well, that’s… _something_ , Cas.”

After another moment of awkward silence, Cas stands up, excusing himself. When he asks what should be done with the leftovers on his plate, Dean says he’ll take care of it. Cas thanks Dean for sharing, then turns to Sam to wish him a good day and to congratulate him once again on the birth of his child. When the man leaves, Sam turns to stare at his brother.

“What? I told you, weird but mostly harmless.”

\---

The next day, Dean has to use his old military glasses to do the books, his sight seems to be getting blurry. Damn birth control glasses are ugly, and he hates using them. He doesn’t care that those types of ugly ass frames are in fashion with the hipsters. He’d rather go without. If his eyesight keeps getting worse, though, he might need to see about getting contacts.

Bobby calls and is all kinds of pissed because Roman Enterprises sent him another proposal and added another zero to the figure. And it was sent from their lawyer this time, straight to him instead of the property. Like that would make a difference.

Dean puts Sam on speaker, and when Bobby reads off the name of the law office, he can almost hear Sammy’s bitchface through the phone.

“What, are they a big deal?” Dean asks.

“Dean… McLeod and Crowley are a completely cutthroat law firm. More often than not, they’re the ones that represent the real assholes that Gabe takes pro bono cases against.” Sam sighs. “Bobby, who signed the offer?”

There’s some paper rustling and Bobby replies, “Fergus Crowley.”

Sam swears softly. “That’s a real problem.”

“Why?”

“Because…” They can hear Sam’s heavy sigh. “He’s considered a demon in the courtroom. He’s good, real good at twisting words and making a jury see his way.”

Dean frowns at the phone. “But this is just a proposal, Sammy. Why would he be a problem for us?”

“Dean, where do you think all these new complaints and claims about the complex are coming from?” He can hear Sam’s irritation over the line. “They’re either trying to make you lose the property or are forcing you to think it’s not worth keeping. I can practically smell the smarmy, British bastard on it from here.”

Bobby’s grumbling. “So why the hell do they want this particular patch of land so bad, then? Can’t they just put up their damn corn syrup office anywhere?”

There’s silence on the line for awhile, before Sam speaks. “Maybe this doesn’t have anything to do with a corn syrup factory guys.”

They all ruminate that thought for a while, then Dean gets an idea. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

“Um, hey, guys?” He shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “I, uh, one of our residents works for Roman Enterprises.”

Both Sam’s and Bobby’s voices overlap over the line, “WHAT?!?”

He holds the phone away from his ear and lets both of them squawk for a while before getting their attention again.

“So yeah, her name’s Charlie, and she’s almost never in the office. But she’s supposed to be really awesome at computer stuff, so maybe she can help us out?”

“Jesus, Dean!” He imagines Sam’s eyes rolling. “You ever think she’s _helping_ them do this?”

He can’t help but feel like Sam’s overreacting. “Dude. If she was helping them, then why isn’t she one of the complainers so far? Her frigging water heater exploded. I think if she was gonna use that against us, she would have by now.”

Great, and now his headache’s back. He pinches the bridge of his nose and then presses his fingers into his eyelids.

“Lemme talk to her, okay? See what she says. You know I’m good at reading tells.”

Bobby grumbles, and Sam speaks up. “And what if she tries to get into your pants, huh Dean? Anyone with two brain cells can figure out you have a weakness for skirt-chasing.”

Dean resents that remark. Ever since his… injury, it’s been hard for him to even find a one-night-stand, because he hates exposing the scarred mess that is his arm. It’s one of the reasons he’d gotten drunk so often before, because then he wouldn’t care if the girl whose bedroom he’d stagger into kept her lights on or not. After he sobered up, though… He rubs his left bicep, feeling the twisted flesh through his shirt. It was really difficult to approach women, knowing he’d eventually have to take his shirt off; unless he wanted to subsist entirely on quickies in a bathroom or alleyway. Come to think of it, his libido’s practically bottomed out since his knee injury.

“Dean.” His brother’s voice jerks him out of his thoughts. “Look, I didn’t mean…”

“No, Sammy. I understand. But, Charlie, ummm…” He feels guilty sharing what he's learned about her, even though he knows both Sam and Bobby’d be cool with it. “She’s gay.” He takes a lungful of air, “So, her trying to flirt with me would be… really out of character?”

Bobby grunts and Sam sighs loudly. He presses on, “So I really think I should just talk to her.”

After a moment of silence, Sam says, “Alright, Dean. But still be careful. If she’s working for Roman and is in on this…”

The pounding has spread from Dean’s temples to behind his eyeballs. Right now, he just wants to get off the phone and rest in a dark, cool place for a moment. When he responds, it’s in as best a placating voice as he can muster.

“I know, I’ll be careful. Alright?”

After a few more assurance, warnings and swear words, Dean finally manages to get off the phone. Leaning back in his chair, he throws an arm over his eyes. _Fuckin’ stress headache_ , he thinks. Briefly, he wonders why the Vicodin aren’t working against it.

Dean takes his lunchbreak a little early. After that, and another visit from Cas, who thankfully doesn’t say much or stay long when Dean mentions his headache. After Cas leaves, he looks up Charlie’s number. He gets sent to voicemail, so he leaves a relatively vague message, asking her to get in touch with him when she finds the time.

Shit. His headache isn’t any better, and he’s closed all the blinds and turned off the lights. He’d lock up and just head home if he didn’t have so much damn paperwork to do. Sighing, he digs out his bottle of Vicodin, swallowing another with water, then pushes his ugly-ass glasses back on his face and turns back to the paperwork awaiting him.

******

When Castiel steps out of Dean’s office, he’s concerned. Yes, the man could legitimately have just a headache, but then he noticed the glasses hiding under a haphazardly tossed piece of paper. He’s never seen Dean wear glasses, and he hadn’t noticed the telltale signs of contacts, either. So there’s two symptoms right there. Add to that the constant bottle of water, an indication of dry mouth, and the pill-bottle-rattling he heard under the desk today; yes, Dean most likely has a problem. But what to do about it?

After yesterday’s lunch, of which he ate way too much, he feels like Dean might actually be a friend. The thought of watching the man fill his plate with what he considered were the best things to eat warms his heart. He hadn’t had so much to eat in one sitting in a very long time, especially after he started restricting his diet to get rid of the spare tire that had been growing around his middle. How was he supposed to eat that much? Plus, he’d already had a sandwich before stopping by. Making it through almost half the plateful had been a challenge.

His smile is clouded by worry however, at the thought what it will take to get Dean off of the pain pills. If he and Benny can’t convince Dean to at least try to stop… No, not thinking about that yet. First he needs to let Benny know they need to talk. He takes a slip of paper from his pocket, and writes a brief note, slipping it in between the doorframe and the door of Benny’s apartment, at eye-height. Task completed, he goes home to wait.


	8. Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: Addiction: symptoms & confrontation, withdrawals, recovery.

Charlie stops by Friday afternoon, wearing faded jeans, a bright yellow tank top and oversized sunglasses. Her bright red hair is pulled up in a ponytail, and her fair skin is tinged pink  and freckled along her shoulders and nose. She hands him a t-shirt with a picture of the Tardis on it, and bumps her hip to his, or his thigh really, she’s shorter than him.

“Heard you needed me?”

“Where were you this time?”

“Orlando, Florida. Comic and toy show,” she winks saucily, “But if anyone asks, I was at a tech expo in Raleigh.”

Dean shakes his head and chuckles. Either she is a very good actor, or she really has no idea what’s going on.

“So, Bowlegs, what’s the haps around here lately?” she asks as she flops down into a guest chair, tossing her sunglasses down on his desk.

He starts by telling her about the taggers and how he twisted his knee, fudging the story slightly so it doesn’t seem like he tripped over his own two feet. When he mentions that they had been tagging symbols from the _Supernatural_ book series, her eyes twinkle in excitement and she leans forward.

“Really? Which ones?”

He glances at the ceiling in exasperation for a moment. “Not you, too? I thought it had a _small_ cult following.”

“Just call me the hipster of geekdom, baby,” she grins wide.

When he shows her photos of the symbols that had been used, she knows exactly what they are, which book and chapter they’re from, and rattles off a little bit of the history behind the symbols.

“Charlie, how can you possibly know all this from reading a book? Are they illustrated, or something?” He sits back, exasperated.

Charlie makes a pouty-face at him. “Well, Deanie,” He returns the pout, it’s a stupid nickname. “Have you ever heard of an author’s blog?”

Dean blinks at her blankly.

She comes over to his side of the desk, rolling him in his chair out of the way so she can get her hands on the computer keyboard.

“Did you even try to look any of this up?”

Looking away, he scratches the back of his neck. Admittedly, he hasn’t even thought about it. Within less than a minute, Charlie has the main page for Carver Edlund’s site open. She shows him the blog portion, the message boards, and a tab clearly but simply labeled LORE. That opens a new page, broken down into categories. He looks them over, seeing Demons, Monsters, Ghosts, and Charlie clicks on one labeled Symbolism.

After a bit of scrolling, she stops at a symbol called a Tulpa, and recognizes it as the one he thought looked like the symbol for the Artist formerly known as Prince. When he says that out loud, Charlie doubles over in laughter. He stops her at the one that had been drawn on the siding.

“Wait, just a sec.”

He reads the title just below the drawing: Angel Banishing Sigil, just like Charlie said. He glances over the description, wondering why it freaked out Cas so badly when he first saw it, or how he knew about it at all. Curious, he clicks a link in red, to an article about Enochian, which is apparently the language of angels.

 _Jesus H. Christ, when they said it had a cult following, they literally meant Cult, didn’t they_.

“Yeah, some of the people on the boards take this pretty seriously.”

Dean jumps at the sound of Charlie’s voice, not realizing that he’d spoken out loud.

“You’re not…” he makes a vague gesture at the screen, “are you?”

Charlie rolls her eyes and sits back on her heels. “Oh, God, no. I just think they’re an interesting read. It’s all about these brothers that fight ghosts and monsters, traveling the country, saving people, hunting things.” A half smile ghosts across her face, “It’s kind of a family business. The guy just cranks out so many.” She waggles her eyebrows, “And you should read the fanfiction this series has generated.”

Dean wipes his hand across his face. “Okay, enough about the book-cult we’ve apparently stumbled upon.”

“Yeah, you didn’t ask me over just to tell me about this, did you?”

After they settle back in, he tells her about their troubles with Roman Enterprises. By the time he finishes, Charlie seems flabbergasted.

“Wow. Dean, I honestly had no idea anything like this was going on. I just made sure the servers stayed working and occasionally create a ‘failure’ for me to fix for job security. If I had known…” Her brow creases in worry. “Heck, why would I wanna leave this place, I just got the pipeline for the internet upgraded.”

Dean looks at her quizzically and she waves him off.

“I think it’s time I actually went in for a thorough server check. I promise, I’ll get to the bottom of this for you, alright?”

After their conversation winds down and Charlie heads home to unpack, Dean calls Sam to let him know she’s on the case. It goes to voicemail. With a habitual shake of his Vicodin bottle, he realizes it’s getting low, and decides to head out to the Roadhouse as soon as he gets off work. The anticipation of a fresh bottle for the weekend has him locking the doors fifteen minutes early. As he gets on the interstate, he calls Ash, but he gets his voicemail, too. Huh. Well, it is Friday, maybe the dude’s just busy.

When Dean gets to the Roadhouse, he bypasses the bar entirely, knowing he’d just get the stinkeye from Jo and Ellen for stopping to see Ash. They’d be happy to see him if he was drinking again, he thinks, frowning as he knocks on the old wooden door that leads to Ash’s room at the back of the building. He knocks three different times, growing more impatient when the mullet finally pokes around the edge of the door.

“Hold your horses, Kemosabe. Hey Dean…” Ash’s eyes shift to the side, “Whatcha doin here on a Friday evening?”

Dean’s eyes narrow. “Here for a prescription. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Ash closes the door quickly behind him. “You know, got a friend,” he winks, “in there waiting on me.”

With a pat on the guy’s shoulder, Dean continues, “Then I won’t keep you long. Top me off?”

“Uhh,” Ash shifts uncomfortably and doesn’t reach to get his van keys. “Didn’t I just top you off last weekend?”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Dean wonders what the hell’s going on. “Yeah, so? I need more now.”

Ash stares at the dirt between his feet. “You shouldn’t have gone through them so fast”

“Well maybe you picked the weaker ones”

Looking up into Dean’s eyes, Ash squares his jaw. Dean knows he shouldn’t have given the verbal jab, but he doesn’t want to stand around here all night.

“I’m out of them at the moment.” His gaze stays firm as his eyes meet Dean’s.

“Dude, are you shitting me?”

Ash remains silent.

“I’ll take some Oxy’s then.”

“I’m not giving you any of those either, Dean.” Ash shakes his head.

What the fuck?

“Dude, I’ll pay you double for half. I just need something to get me through the weekend, alright?”

He can see the smaller guy’s face drop as if in defeat, and a little trill runs through him, thinking he’s finally going to get what he needs. What Ash says next shocks him.

“Dean, I hate to do this to you, but I’m gonna have to cut you off. Really, you should consider what this is doing to you, and try to get off the pills. They’ll tear you apart, slowly. I gotta get back inside.” He slips through the door at his back. “Hope to talk to you again later, but not about this.”

With that, the door is closed, and Dean can hear the deadbolt thump into place.

“Son of a BITCH!”

He kicks angrily at the door a couple of times, then stomps back to the Impala, slamming his door a little too hard and kicking up dust on his way out of the gravel parking lot. When he gets home, he jams the key in the lock, and doesn’t realize the lights are on until he looks up to see his living room full of people. Sam and Bobby are on the couch, Benny’s in a chair, and at the doorway to the kitchen appears a pair of startled blue eyes under a shock of messy dark hair. Then Dean notices he’s wearing a suit under the trenchcoat this time, a blue tie twisted around, showing the backside. Confused, he scans back over the assembly of people in his home.

“What the Hell?”

Sam and Benny exchange a look before Benny hauls himself up and leads Dean to the other empty chair.

He can’t help but look around at the grim faces, wondering what the hell’s going on.

“Guys, you’re freaking me out a little here. Did someone die? Are we getting sued?”

His mind races. There weren’t any ambulances, fire trucks, or police cars when he got back, so what the fuck gives? Turning to look toward the kitchen, he sees Cas perched on a stool at the counter, partially hidden by the doorframe.

“And why the hell are you here?”

Cas’ eyes immediately drop to the floor. Movement draws Dean’s attention, and Sam’s leaning forward, that worried puppy dog look on his stupid face.

“Each of us have noticed there’s been something wrong lately, Dean.”

Bobby grunts and shifts uncomfortably, and Benny is perched at the edge of his seat, facing Dean, a hard look focusing on him.

“We know about the illegal pills.”

“What—”  Dean’s eyes widen, what’s going on finally sneaking in. “Goddammit, that’s why Ash wouldn't deal with me. You shitheads got to him first. Is this a fucking intervention?”

He starts to stand up, but Benny stops him, pushing down firmly on his shoulder. This time Bobby speaks up.

“Sit your ass down, and listen to what we have to say. Remember what happened when we helped you get your shit straight because of the drinking? Expect more of the same.”

Yeah, of course he remembers when they did this for his drinking. Benny wasn’t there of course, neither was Cas. But Ellen and Jo were. They’d done this at Bobby’s house then. Except that had been a real problem, he was drunk half the time, and had been sent to the drunk tank more than once after an occasional bar brawl broke out. If it hadn’t been for Sheriff Mills’ intervention, he’d probably have lost his license, too. But this, this is just some pain pills, that he _needs_. So what if he gets them from a less than reputable source? He’s fine.

Sam outlines the legal ramifications of taking improperly prescribed or street-sold drugs, and Benny points out his increasingly erratic and uncharacteristic behavior. Cas stands at the kitchen doorway, eyes turned to the floor when it’s his turn, saved for last.

“Have you been having headaches, recently, Dean?” His voice is soft, and everyone goes quiet so he can be heard.

“Perhaps a ringing of the ears?”

Dean swallows.

“How about blurred vision, occasional dizziness or nausea? Have you noticed the pills don’t last as long or you have to take more for the same effect?”

By the end of the last sentence, his blue eyes are meeting Dean’s, compassion in his gaze.

“Remember I told you I used to be an EMT? I’ve seen the effects of an overdose, the pinprick pupils, the shallow respiration, slowed heartbeat. I’ve also seen what happens when a liver shuts down from overdosing on the Acetaminophen in Vicodin, Dean. I…” he looks back at the floor, “don’t want to see that happen to you.”

“Guys,” Dean looks around the room, “It’s just some pain meds. It’s not like I’m addicted or anything.”

Sam looks up at him, “So stop taking them.”

Seriously? Just stop taking them? They have no idea, that he _needs_ them to get through the day.

“Fuck all y’all. I don’t need this shit.”

He stands up reaching for his keys.

“Dean!”

Bobby's sharp, commanding tone makes him freeze, a throwback from military training and all the years he looked up to the man as a surrogate father.

“Sit your damn idjit ass down.”

He looks defiantly at the older man who is glaring daggers at him, but he sits.

“Remember the conditions of taking the job of manager here?”

How could he forget. Bobby said if he ever saw him drinking anything stronger than beer, and anything alcoholic at all during work hours, he was out. It was one of the strongest motivators for drying out and staying sober. And some days were worse than others, the temptation to take a drink when he’d had a bad day could be so strong. Swallowing, he nods.

“Well, I’m afraid I’ve gotta amend those conditions to include this too.” He pulls a paper from his back pocket. “You’re going on vacation, starting now, for about a week. One of us will be staying with you to keep an eye on things at all times. And no more goddamn pills. If you got any on you, we’re throwing ‘em out.”

Benny holds his hand out, and Dean reluctantly slides the bottle out of his pocket, the last few pills rattling hollowly. Looking away, he places the bottle in the outstretched palm, and Benny has to peel his fingers from the amber plastic. He hears the rattle of the pills as the bottle is tossed to someone, and them the switching on of his garbage disposal, the sounds of those last few pills getting ground up on their way down the drain. It must have been Cas, then. Couldn’t they have let him have just one more?

When he turns back to face the others, Bobby has the paper from his back pocket unfolded and placed before him on the coffee table, a pen on top of it. It’s a handwritten contract, saying that Dean agrees to stay off of addictive medications and to go through withdrawal. Everyone else has signed it, and it’s awaiting his signature at the bottom. Smirking, he turns to Sam.

“Couldn’t take the time to get it typed out Sammy? No notarization to make it official?”

Sam just gives him an unamused bitchface. Benny speaks up after a brief moment.

“So, we can do one of two things. You can go to a detox facility, and let the professionals help you, or you can deal with our ugly mugs for the next week.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he mumbles.

They know how much he hates hospitals, and what it would be like for him to be locked in a detox facility. That just ain’t happening. This means they have him by the shorthairs. Sam stands up and places a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll take the first shift, just gonna call Jess really quick.”

He steps out onto the patio to make his call.

Dean signs the damn paper and shoves it back at Bobby.

“So, what next? You guys just gonna stand around and watch me sit here and bitch about my damn knee?”

Cas emerges from the kitchen with a paper of his own and a small plastic bag full of… what looks like more pill bottles?

“There is a list online, called the Thomas Recipe*, it’s been quite effective for at-home opiate withdrawal. There are many symptoms that can be addressed with sleep-aids, vitamins, and herbal supplements.” He glances up at Bobby. “I’ve been informed that you will need something stronger than normal over-the-counter sleep-inducers, so I have brought some of my own supply of Xanax to help the process.” Those blue eyes of his fall back to stare at the floor. “Although I normally disagree with the unapproved use of a prescription medication, I feel they will be helpful in this case.”

He hands the sack off to Benny, and twitches uncomfortably.

“I really should be going home now, before Anna worries. Since you have been so kind as to not mention any of my… recent activities with her, I shall also refrain from mentioning yours.”

Stopping at the front door, hand on the knob, he speaks again.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to check in on you tomorrow.”

Dean nods, and Cas quietly exits.

Sam orders a couple of pizzas, and Bobby pokes through the bag full of pill bottles, looking at a sheaf of papers with the instructions in his hand. Benny hands everyone a beer, and when Dean makes a comment about drinking with all the medications they’re about to shove down his throat, he gets lightly smacked upside the head with the bottle Benny was holding out to him. Their pizza arrives, and Bobby passes Dean a handful of nasty-looking, multicolored horse pills.

“What the fuck is all this shit?” He looks down at them in distaste, poking at them with a finger.

Bobby lifts up bottles, explaining. “Multivitamin, mineral supplement, Potassium, B-6.”

He places a slice of pizza on a plate and takes a bite, talking around his food. “Eat, swallow those, then go take a hot shower. After that, you go to bed with a double dose of Cas’ Xanax.”

While Dean starts eating, he glances nervously at the clock. It’s almost nine o’clock, and he hasn’t had a Vicodin since just after lunch. He thinks of the last ones that got ground up in the disposal, and hopes whatever lives in the sewers appreciates the pain relief. By the time he’s eaten all he wants and the nasty-ass pills are swallowed, his knee is jiggling and he’s sweating.

_Is the AC on? Maybe I should go turn it up. Or down. Huh. So which way makes it colder?_

Sam reaches out and touches his arm, making him jump.

“I think it’s time for that shower now, Dean.”

The shower, while hot and marginally relaxing, makes him realize how cramped up he was getting, a low ache settling into his muscles. He exits wearing a light t-shirt and pajama pants, scrubbing a towel through his short hair and making it stand up.

“Alright, what’s next on the list, nurse?”

Benny hands him two 2mg Xanax bars and a small plastic cup with a weird, green, chalky looking liquid. He downs both bars and chases it with the liquid. Grimacing, he reaches for some water.

“Eugh, what was that nasty shit?”

“Umm,” Benny glances to the side, “Imodium.”

Swishing some water in his mouth, Dean swallows and asks, “Why the hell do I need that?”

Both Benny and Sam look uncomfortable, but then Bobby huffs and explains, “Because apparently withdrawal symptoms include crapping your pants.”

Dean shakes his head as Sam leads him to his bed, and tucks him in, despite his comments about he’s not fucking four years old. Sam stays by his side, and he can feel some of his twitchiness subside as he starts yawning. Damn, Cas wasn’t kidding, Xanax is some good shit. Eventually, he drifts off.

\---

He’s not sure how long he stays in bed after that, but he feels like he’s got the damn flu. He’s sweaty, nauseous, crampy, and his muscles ache. It seems every time he wakes up someone’s shoving something down his throat, be it a damn nutrition shake, or a freaking pill, or more of the anti-shit-myself liquid.

Half the time he’s asleep, he has fucked up trippy shit going on, the other half he’s flashing back to the Sandbox. Sometimes it’s both, and those are the times he wakes up retching into the trash can they placed by the bed for him. Occasionally, when he’s not quite asleep, wafting through a Xanax high, he can feel a hand on an arm or his head, combing through his hair or stroking his cheek. It’s nice, and it reminds him of when he was just a little boy and Mom would comfort him. Those times usually lead to a blissfully dreamless sleep.

Once, he swears he wakes up and it’s Cas, sitting by his bed and smiling at him, blue eyes looking at him softly. “You need to rest, Dean, it’s almost over.” He sinks back into his pillows, and the man’s warm hand is on his arm, his soft, deep voice lulls him back under. A burst of memory, red wings on a blue background, flashes behind his eyes. He doesn’t remember any of this afterwards.

******

Castiel stops by Dean’s apartment during his morning walk. The man is tossing and turning, not really sleeping. After a brief discussion with Benny, the only one awake, they decide to add a Benadryl to the Xanax dose in the hopes it keeps him down for longer.

They really shouldn’t be mixing medication like this, but he already feels guilty for lying to Anna about the pills that are already missing. He had told her there was an accident and they got knocked down the kitchen drain. She had believed him, without question. After Dean settles back down again, he spends a moment sitting in a chair by his bed, monitoring his breathing and occasionally his pulse.

For three days, Bobby, Sam and Benny keep watch over Dean, with Castiel stopping by a couple of times a day. When the man is mostly lucid, he is extremely grumpy, and complains of muscle pain, among other things. They add Ibuprofen to his regular dosing. Bobby takes over the management of the complex, telling those that ask that Dean has come down with the flu. Because with all the problems they’ve been having with Roman Enterprises wanting the property, this has to remain secret.

Castiel watches him sleep, the crease between the man’s eyes refuses to smooth, even while unconscious. During the first day, he’s sitting quietly by the bed and notices Dean is having a nightmare; head tossing, muscles twitching, eyes flicking quickly back and forth beneath his eyelids. Reaching out, Castiel can feel the quick, thready pulse, and Dean grimaces in his sleep. A thought of his mother emerges, a memory of how she would comfort him when he was ill. He scoots closer and places a palm on Dean’s forehead. Leaning forward, he whispers comfort, combing through the sweaty strands of hair. Slowly, Dean starts to relax, his breathing evens out, and the crease between his eyebrows loosens a little as his face slackens.

Several times, Castiel soothes Dean through rough patches, with soft touches and hushed tones of voice. He watches the man rest, and looks over his fine features in the dim light. Castiel indulges in running his knuckles along the man’s scruffy, well-defined jaw, and notices the way he leans into the touch. Curious, he places his warm hand against Dean’s cheek, and as if by magic, the crease between his eyebrows disappears as he snuggles against it, the beard growth scratchy against his palm. Dean’s mouth parts with a sigh, and his lips are almost feminine, plush with a crease the center of his bottom lip. Castiel brushes his thumb against the cleft of the man’s chin and the slight scar just to the right  before pulling his hand away, and he hears a soft whimper as if Dean misses the touch.

He continues studying the features of the face he has gotten to know over the past few months. Dean’s nose is upturned and narrow, with nostrils that flare with emotion. There’s a slight hump on the bridge, and he wonders if it’s ever been broken. His lashes are ridiculously long for a man, and Castiel has to fight the urge to brush them with the tips of his fingers. He always knew Dean has freckles, but from up close, he sees them everywhere. All over his face, across his cheekbones and nose, even his eyelids. Curious, he leans closer. Yes, there are freckles on the man’s lips as well.

There’s a soft grunt, and Dean shifts, his head turning toward him, and Castiel freezes, face-to-face with the sleeping man. He slowly backs away, guilt churning in his gut from openly staring at him in his sleep. Touching his own face, he realizes he’s even blushing. Perhaps it’s time he went home for today, as the other men seem to have everything under control. Unable to look anyone in the face, he quickly passes through the main living area and mumbles a parting greeting before closing the door behind him.

As he walks home, his mind is in a whirl with the conflicting reactions he seems to be feeling. He wants to both run away and yet stay close to the sleeping man. Pushing away the thought of Dean’s face so close to his own, he tells himself he absolutely did _not_ want to kiss those soft, freckled lips. Guilt and shame tear at him as he heads upstairs to his own room and collapses face-first onto his bed. Dean is a friend, and these impulses are completely inappropriate. But then again, when was the last time he felt attraction to anyone?

Castiel rolls over to stare at the ceiling. Balthazar. He was a part of the UK Special Forces, and the two militaries had shared a base. In spite of the other man’s incessant flirting, Castiel had never acted on his impulses. He restrained himself then, so he can surely restrain himself now. Interesting, he once considered himself asexual. But he has found that with some people, very few, he would form close bonds and attraction would form. What was it? Demi or something?

When he touches Dean while sleeping for the rest of the time he’s going through the worst of his withdrawals, he tells himself it’s to comfort the man, as it does seem effective. Monday evening, the end of the third day, Castiel can tell the symptoms are easing. By the change in Dean’s breathing patterns, he will probably wake soon. Considering how recent his last dose of relaxants was however, it probably won’t be for long.

Sleepy green eyes blink open, then turn to him, and a little crooked smile forms on Dean’s face. Castiel can’t help but smile back, his chest warm at the thought of Dean smiling because of him. He tells him to go back to sleep, that the worst is almost over. With a hand on his arm, and soothing words, He watches as the man sink back into slumber, hopefully for the final time under the influence of Xanax.

Looking down at the arm he had placed his palm on, he thinks about how Dean had freely given up wearing long sleeves for this, as all the men present have seen his scars. Once, when Dean was unconscious, Castiel had noticed a tattoo on his right shoulder, where the sleeve had ridden up. He’d pushed it up further, to see what at first seemed to be the usual Marine Corps tattoo. But then he noticed there was a fork instead of an anchor, and the circle, usually a globe, was a pie crust. He smiles, remembering the banner, reading Semper Pie.

***

Tuesday morning, Dean wakes up feeling almost human. Desperately needing to take a piss, he tries to get out of bed and almost falls over. Okay, so he’s weaker than dishwater right now, but three days of mostly bedrest and hardly eating anything will do that to you. His muscles still ache, and his gut feels like it’s processing broken glass, but his head feels clearer and the nerves aren’t as bad. Determined to not need help going to the damn bathroom, he crawls to the doorway and tries to sneak across the hall. Sammy spots him when he’s halfway over the bathroom threshold.

“Dean!”

His head sags at the alarmed tone in his little brother’s voice. He’s just going to the bathroom, dammit. Continuing to crawl, he almost gets far enough to close the door before Sam comes barreling in behind him.

“Let me help—”

“Dammit Sammy, I can take a fucking piss by myself!”

He closes his eyes and rests his forehead on the cool tile floor, listening to his brother’s awkward shuffling.

“I just think you should—”

“Get. The hell. Out.” He growls between clenched teeth. “If you hear me fall over, by all means break down the fucking door, but let me piss in peace, please?”

At the end of his request , he pours into it all the frustration and shame of not even being able to go to the bathroom on his own. Sam must catch on to the tone of his voice, because he slowly backs out and quietly closes the door. Limbs trembling with emotion and strain, Dean does manage to at least sit on the toilet, emasculating as it is, to relieve the pressure in his bladder. While he’s there, he suffers the effects of the Imodium wearing off.

Once he’s empty, cleaned up and has his pants pulled up, he carefully gets back on the floor and crawls his way to the living room, determined to not spend another fucking day in bed again. It feels like he went through a full round with an MMA fighter who plays dirty. It’s not dissimilar to when he gets sick. Dean rarely does catch a virus. But when he does, he doesn't get the sniffles, or a 24 hour bug, he gets full-on quarantine-status week-long SICK, with all the bells and whistles. From what he’s been told, this will last about as long.

When he rounds the corner and is visible from the chair Sam’s perched at the edge of, the guy starts to rise out of it.

“Don’t touch me,” Dean snaps as he crawls toward the couch.

Sam settles back into the chair he had half-risen from. With some grunting and maneuvering, Dean finally gets upright on the couch. He’s fucking starving, but he’s not exactly sure how much his stomach can take like this. Sick and tired of being sick and tired, he turns to Sam with a smirk, covering his weakness with snark.

“So, what am I allowed to eat for breakfast?”

When Sam gets up to get him whatever has been deemed acceptable breakfast food, Dean feels guilty as hell. Sammy’s supposed to be taking care of his wife and goddamn newborn, not his broken-ass brother. Maybe if he shows he’s much better, he can get the freaking moose to go the hell home.

When Sam comes out of the kitchen, Dean is strategically posed. He’s taking up the middle of the couch, one arm draped over the back, legs spread wide and remote in hand. He looks up to see his brother holding out a banana, while juggling a small cup of that Imodium shit, a bottle of water, and more multivitamins. Rolling his eyes, he tilts his head to the side to look up at Sam incredulously. The banana gets tossed at his lap and Sam produces a nutrition shake from a pocket.

“Until we know you can hold everything down, you’re still on a restricted diet.”

With a huff, Dean accepts the items from Sam, and takes bites of banana to help swallow down the vitamins. There’s a new one, a white capsule, and Dean holds it out in his palm.

“Wha’s ‘is ‘un,” he mumbles around a bite of banana.

“Tyrosine, supposed to help with energy.”

He shrugs, popping into his mouth and taking another bite of banana. When that’s finished, he swallows down the Imodium and cracks the seal on his water, desperate to wash out the taste. His stomach churns, and he thinks it’s almost worth the taste to not have to deal with what came out of him just a few minutes ago.

A knock on the door has Sam rushing to answer. It’s Cas, with another grocery bag of who knows the fuck what. He greets Sam, and then when he turns and sees Dean on the couch, making a valiant attempt at not looking as weak as he feels, his eyes light up, and his whole face just… lifts. It’s the only way Dean can describe it, as if the gravity around Cas just got reduced by half. Sack still in hand, he comes over and searches his face for signs of… whatever the dude is looking for. A hand reaches out, but pulls back at the last minute, almost as if he was going to do something reflexively. Probably check his damn temperature.

Indicating the grocery bag with his chin, Dean asks, “Whatcha got there?”

Cas stops scrutinizing him and spreads open the handles, looking inside.

“I had a feeling you’d be ready to be up and about, so I brought a few things to help with your stomach.”

And with no other explanation, the guy just wanders into the kitchen and places a large mug full of water into the microwave. Having to twist around hurts, so Dean turns back around and turns on the TV. He usually doesn’t watch this time of day, but he does have a few secret pleasures. _Let’s Make a Deal_ is just starting.

After watching the ridiculous shit people will do for some cash for a few minutes, Cas comes over and thrusts a hot mug into his hands. Inside is a pale, creamy beverage, and it smells sharply spicy.

“Uhh, what’s this, Cas?”

“It’s ginger tea, and it should help settle your stomach.”

Eyebrow raised, Dean sniffs at it again, taking a tentative sip. He can taste fresh ginger and lemon, with milk and sugar. It’s not half bad. Of course, it’s not coffee, but it will do. After another, larger sip, he smiles at Cas, looking up at him.

“Thanks, Cas, I appreciate it.”

The man’s eyes widen and drop to the floor, and he mumbles out a “You’re welcome”. Is… is he blushing? A smirk on his face, Dean decides that’s a-freaking-dorable. If a man could be called adorable. Uhm…

“Have a seat, Cas. Watch some idiots act like fools on camera.”

Cas glances up before staring back at the floor, shuffling his feet and hands in his pockets.

“I don’t normally watch television.”

That gets both eyebrows. “You… That's…” He points at a chair. “Sit your butt down and watch Wayne Brady make a deal.”

During the program, Cas asks questions about the participant's behaviors and the point of the show. Dean’s most usual response: “Because it’s fun, Cas.”

By the time _The Price Is Right_ is over, Dean’s drooping. He sags into the corner of the couch and yawns widely. Cas shuffles into the kitchen to discuss with Sam something about nutrition and apparently Dean’s new diet. As he closes his eyes, he hopes it involves some freaking red meat. After a short nap, he awakes to the smell of toast, cheese, and soup. Cas places a tray on the coffee table and Dean salivates at the sight of grilled cheese and a bowl of chicken noodle soup. As he reaches for what must be lunch, Sam shoves a spoon in his face.

“Eat slowly, or you’ll get sick.”

He snatches the spoon from Sam’s fingers.

“Yeah, yeah. Samantha, quit mothering me.”

He groans at the first bite of grilled cheese, “Fuck me.” His eyes roll skyward before closing, it tastes so good.

******

Dean’s reaction to the simple sandwich makes Castiel flinch. At first, he thought it would be a good idea to slowly reintroduce solid foods by including ones that would help with intestinal difficulties. Cheese and toast are part of that, and Dean’s already eating bananas. The ginger tea was his own idea, remembering how it would settle his stomach when he was feeling ill. That’s something else he learned from his mother.

Dean continues to groan through his meal, slurping soup straight from the bowl, not using the spoon until he’s down to the remaining noodles pooled at the bottom. He licks his lips after every sip, trying to catch any that dribbled. Watching Dean eat is almost… pornographic, the way he enjoys his food. When Dean bites at a stray bit of melted cheese from his thumb, scraping the pad with his teeth and then sucking on it, a shiver runs down Castiel’s spine, a warmth settling low in his stomach. He closes his eyes and regulates his breathing.

 _Dean is a friend, a very heterosexual friend._ He can’t remember the last time he felt such a visceral reaction to something like this.

When he opens his eyes, he sees Dean’s green ones looking at him with concern.

“Dude, you okay?”

He can feel heat rising up his face.

“Yes, I ah… should go.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and backs toward the door. “Glad you’re feeling better, but there are things…” The corner of the chair hits the back of a knee and he stumbles. “That I really must see to. I’ll stop by later.”

He finds the doorknob and is gone before Dean can blink. On his way back home, he clenches his fists, wondering if a small dose of Xanax would help or make things worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The Thomas Recipe really exists, but I cannot condone trying such a method as detox. Anyone undertaking such an endeavor does so at their own risk. It can be dangerous, and should never be attempted alone.


	9. Loosening Grip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: mental health issues, mentions of Benghazi, hallucinations, mild violence.  
> The brief Dean/Anna is at the end of the chapter.

Dean finds out that Sammy and Benny have been taking turns, as Sam prepares to go home for the evening. He wonders what he told the in-laws to let him out of the house daily, but to still let him back in every day. If Dean really had the flu, Sam should be nowhere near a newborn after hanging around his sick ass all day. When he asks him about it, Sam says he’s telling them it’s about the Roman Enterprises thing. Well, that’s a half-truth anyway. Dean manages to stand up long enough for a quick hug, thanking his brother for all he’s done.

“Hey, you took care of me long enough, time to return the favor.”

Wednesday promises to be hot, and Dean’s glad to be indoors for a change, especially while he’s still feeling the effects of withdrawal. He’s allowed to eat eggs as long as he can hold them down and he makes the most of it by trying to make an omelet by himself. What he gets is cheesy scrambled eggs. Benny tries to not laugh, and Dean ends up throwing a dish towel at him. But they’re still freaking awesome, and he enjoys them thoroughly, wishing he could have some coffee to go with. After eating, his stomach doesn’t feel as enthusiastic, so he digs out the ingredients for the ginger tea. All he does is glance at the recipe, and guesstimates how much to put in. The result makes him cough at the strength, with too much lemon and ginger. He drinks it anyway.

Late morning, he gets a call from Charlie. She sounds a little breathless when she says she’ll meet up with him later, and that what she found is kind of a big deal. She won’t say more over the phone, but promises to tell everything when she gets here. As soon as he’s off the line with her, he calls Sam and Bobby.

They’re all there, Benny, Sam and Bobby, waiting for Charlie to come by. Dean wonders how Cas will get along with Charlie when the doorbell rings. The redhead bounds in full of energy after practically choking Dean with a hug around his neck. After introductions and some awkward hugging —so Charlie’s a big hugger, who knew?— they get her to sit down. She pulls out an iPad and starts flicking rapidly through whatever she has on it, before setting it down.

“So, guess what I found out?”

Dean looks up at the ceiling and to the side, licking his lips and staring back at her in exasperation.

“That’s why you’re _here_ Charlie. So we _don't_ have to guess.”

She pouts, “Someone got out on the wrong side of bed this morning.”

“ _Charlie_ …”

“Fine, fine. So. Roman Enterprises is definitely _not_ going to use the property for corn syrup.”

They all look at her, waiting for the rest.

She knows she’s got a captive audience, and grins. “Have you heard of Fracking?”

Sam’s jaw drops, Benny and Bobby look confused, and Dean raises an eyebrow.

“Fracking?”

“Fracking.”

“Fracking. That sounds dirty,” he says suggestively with a smirk.

“It is,” she wiggles her eyebrows at him. “You watch BSG?”

“Original or reboot?”

“Are you kidding me? Have you _seen_ Tricia Helfer?”

They’re both grinning like idiots when Sam interrupts.

“Uh, guys? I highly doubt that’s the type of fracking she means.”

Dean looks, and sure enough, there’s Sammy’s trademark bitchface.

“Alright college boy, tell us all about it.”

Sam explains, with the occasional input of Charlie, how fracturing oil shale under hydraulic pressure releases the stored natural gas and oil. They also talk about the environmental hazards involved with the process, which include contamination of groundwater, surrounding land, and the atmosphere.

Sam continues, saying that South Dakota just started researching oil production this year, and Roman  must be trying to get in on the ground floor.

Charlie says, “But here’s the weird thing. Most of the shale is west of Sioux Falls, there’s only a small patch here. So it’s not gonna last long.”

They all get quiet for a moment as they consider this.

“So basically,” Dean says, “they wanna screw us over for a couple of years of production?”

“Pretty much.”

Benny finally joins the discussion after absorbing it all in silence. “So what can we do about it?”

This causes everyone to become quiet again. After a while, a few ideas are tossed around, but they really can’t think of what to do. They can’t prove that Roman Enterprises is doing anything wrong to them, so it’s not like they can try to publicly shame the company. If they release the fracking plot, then Charlie gets in trouble, possibly fired, for disclosing company information. They’re basically caught in a Catch 22.

It’s starting to get late, and Sam needs to get back home to his family. Well, the rest of his family. Charlie has to go too, and she gives everyone a goodbye hug before heading out. Bobby wanders off a little while later, mumbling something about having to go file paperwork. He probably just wants to call up Sheriff Mills and flirt with her or something. That just leaves Benny behind to make sure Dean eats properly and takes his vitamins. After he finally heads home, Dean sits back with a mug of Cas’ ginger tea, a little less strong this time, and realizes the guy never showed up tonight.

******

While he’s walking to Dean’s apartment in the early evening, Castiel sees a petite redhead bound up to Dean’s door. At first, he almost thinks it’s Anna, but she seems a bit too perky, and not wearing scrubs from the nursing home. Then he gets a look at her face as she brushes her hair back and rings the doorbell. No, not Anna. He hangs back a bit, and watches as the woman flings her arms around Dean, pushing him into the apartment.

Odd, Dean never mentioned having a girlfriend before. But who else would be hanging all over him like that? At least this confirms Castiel’s assumption that Dean’s heterosexual. He knows Dean has mentioned an interest in women, he even has a son. But seeing it right in front of him makes his heart feel a little heavy in his chest.

Crestfallen for reasons he’d rather not contemplate, he heads back home. After all, he has someone else to take care of him now. Not to mention his brother, and Bobby, and Benny. Why does he even come over anyway? Dean has so much support, Castiel is probably just a nuisance. When he gets home, Anna is in the kitchen putting together the ingredients for a casserole.

“That was quick,” she calls, “you okay?”

He makes it around the corner so she can’t see his face. “Yeah, just tired. I think I’m going to go lie down.”

Without waiting for an answer, he trudges up the stairs and slowly pulls off his trenchcoat, carefully hanging it up on its hanger on the back of the door. He looks down at the bed and plank-falls across it. Face-first into the comforter, he lets his body go limp, lower legs hanging off the edge. He turns his face to the side, staring at the neatly arranged pillows at the head of the bed.

Here he is, being useless, while Anna cooks dinner after a full day at work. He sits around all day, reading, drawing, occasionally making bread, and she’s the one who keeps the place’s lights on, the rent paid. Of course, some of that comes from the trust set up by the family, which includes the fund his parents set up before their death, the savings he had accrued while in the military, and his disability pension as well. Only one of those he earned himself. The rest is pity-money. ‘Here, take this money and go be a burden on society with no contribution. Other people’s taxes will foot the bill.’

Feeling the tension build up with in him, he rolls onto his side and pulls up his knees, hands balled into fists between his legs and his chest. Thoughts of worthlessness and self-hate swirl through his head as he draws himself into a tight ball. No one needs him. Anna sacrificed her freedom and privacy to take care of a useless cousin. He has marketable skills but has become completely useless in social situations. The things he did while at war…

Spiraling around and around, the thoughts chip away at the thin veneer of normalcy he had built up these past few months. He’s been a nuisance to the management of the property. If he hadn’t caught the teens, Benny would have. Dean was just being nice to him, and has probably been annoyed by his presence. He wasn’t needed for the man’s recovery, either. Benny already knew what was going on.

A different train of thought splits off from the rest, whispering in the background as the others clamor loudly for attention. Slowly, these new thoughts gain enough volume to be heard over the others.

 _It’s the medication making you this way. You know the  thought-deadening effects of all the drugs you consume. And you thought Dean had a problem? Perhaps you should first pluck the beam from your own eye before trying to remove the sawdust from another’s_.

The voice ringing in his head sounds suspiciously like his cousin Luc’s. But it has a point. No, he has exercises he should use when things like this happens, medications…

 _Yes, of course. Lean on the crutch Big Pharma has mass-produced to keep you in line and docile. And continue to drag down everyone around you_.

“Hey.”

The whispered voice from a real, human mouth startles him out of his thoughts. He can feel Anna hovering close, the warmth of her hand centimeters from his arm.

“Dinner’s almost ready.”

“I’m not hungry.” The sound of his words rasp between dry lips, harsh as if he hasn’t spoken in days.

Her fingertips brush the sleeve of his shirt, and he twitches at the slight contact.

“You really should try to—”

His arm jerks away from her touch, and he huddles in on himself.

“Just leave me alone, I’ll be down later.”

He can hear her disappointed sigh, the rustle of her clothes as she backs away.

“If you need anything, you’ll let me know, right?”

He nods silently, hating to have to lie to her any more than he already has. He hears her step to the door and pull it to, but not shut it.

 _She’s going to keep her eye on you_.

Later, when she comes in again, he pretends to be asleep. Pulling an afghan from the closet, she drapes it gently across his cramped form, still curled into a ball. This time, he hears the door click, and he settles in with his thoughts, sleep eluding him.

***

The rest of the week goes slowly and Dean feels himself gradually improving. Thursday’s heat peaks at 104° F and he takes the opportunity to make sure Bobby and Benny stay cool. He’s not completely useless, even if he’s not allowed outside yet. When Cas fails to show up, he assumes it’s the heat. Friday’s much cooler, but still no Cas. He wonders why he hasn’t seen the dude yet. Maybe he’s just having one of his bad days.

Saturday, Dean’s about to go stir-crazy and he convinces his keepers to at least let him wash Baby. She hasn’t been moved in over a week and is all dusty. He happily hauls out the hose, bucket and sponges, pouring enough car wash soap into the bucket to give her a good scrubbing. After grabbing his old stereo and finding a classic rock station, he starts with hosing the Impala down.

He enjoys keeping her clean and shining, the rhythm of his washing in tune with whatever’s playing on the radio. His clothes get a little wet from pressing up against the car, but that’s why he wears his ratty jeans and an old shirt. He pushes up the sleeves to his elbows so they don’t get completely dripping wet. “Bad Company” ends and Lynrd Skynrd’s “Simple Man” starts, and he recognizes the guitar immediately, head already bobbing to the new rhythm as he reaches down to rinse the sponge.

God, it feels good to be out in the warm sunshine, awesome tunes on the radio, washing his baby.

******

After hiding away in his room for more than two days, Castiel needs to go outside. He has grown accustomed to his daily walks, and his body is clamoring for movement, exercise. Since he doesn’t expect to see Dean, except maybe through a window, his defenses aren’t quite ready when he hears music playing, and notices the streams of water running across the parking lot into the storm drain.

Dean is washing his car. Castiel freezes, then slinks around the corner of the building, out of sight except for where he’s peeking. The front of Dean’s faded, torn jeans are dark from where he has pressed against the wet car. He’s wearing a thin, long-sleeve t-shirt, the sleeves jammed up to his elbows, suds clinging to his forearms. The front of the shirt is damp as well and it clings to him, so Castiel can see the soft definition of hard muscles that have gained just a little padding.

The song on the radio changes, and “Simple Man” by Lynrd Skynrd starts playing. Dean starts bobbing his head and tapping his toes to the beat, his washing falling into rhythm. And then the man starts singing along.

Dean’s voice is smoky, like whiskey. Even if he’s a little out of tune, it’s clear and soulful and beautiful to Castiel. He watches as the man’s whole body moves along with the music, continuing to swipe a soapy sponge along the body of his slick, black car. He realizes he’s been standing still, entranced by the event, and turns to leave. He is surprised to see Benny has snuck up directly behind him. There’s a wry look on the bearded man’s face and he tilts his chin in Dean’s direction.

“He’s worried about you, ya know.”

Castiel squirms under the man’s focused gaze. “I don’t…” He’s not even sure what to say. Dean was worried about him?

 _No_ , the voice in his head taunts, _He’s just making conversation._

“You been alright, man?” Benny’s eyebrows raise, inquisitive.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just… had other things to do.” He can’t meet Benny’s eyes.

 _Liar_ , the voice sings...

Benny looks around Castiel to where Dean is washing his car, oblivious.

“I don't know if you realize this, but you’re part of his support network now.” He pointedly looks Castiel in the eye. “He’s gonna need all he can get to make it through this, even though he’s past the main WD’s. You said you were an EMT?”

Castiel nods.

“Then you know how easy it is for some to fall back into old habits, right?”

Again, he avoids Benny’s gaze, looking at the man’s work boots. He does understand, having had to take multiple calls to certain locations because of addicts who just couldn’t quit. While he hated having to save their lives repeatedly from a drug they knew was killing them, but couldn’t stop, it was always worse when it was their final call. He had to call the Coroner for those. He nods again.

“Good, then you make sure you keep an eye on each other, okay?”

What? Each other? He squints at Benny, and the man smiles and gives him a pat on the back.

“Just think about what I told you.”

With that, Benny starts heading in Dean’s direction. Castiel has to make a choice, turn back before Benny gets close enough for Dean to notice, or be seen by Dean. He turns away, thinking he’ll stop by tomorrow during his mid-day walk, just to say hello.

 _Riiight_ , the voice in his head mocks.

***

Monday, September third, Dean’s allowed back in the office. This is a good thing, because Bobby can’t seem to figure out how to enter checks properly into the accounting software. Dean is really feeling much better, but Bobby hangs around the office, circling like a buzzard. When Cas shows up around lunchtime, he takes the opportunity to chase Bobby off in search of something to eat. As soon as Bobby’s old Chevelle rounds the corner, Dean lets out a breath.

“Dude, you couldn’t have better timing. The old coot’s been driving me nuts.”

Cas’ face turns serious, “If he is causing you psychological distress, then perhaps—”

Dean waves him off. “Dude, no, I just meant…” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Everyone’s just trying so hard, and… I dunno, sometimes it’s just too much, you know?”

Cas purses his lips, and looks down in thought. Heck, maybe he does know, having Anna watch after him all the time. Wait, is that why Cas hasn’t been by? Did he think he was a bother?

“But, I’m glad you stopped by, not just because of Bobby. Haven’t seen you in a few days, you alright?” He looks sincerely at Cas while he says this.

“I…” Cas drops his gaze and looks to the side, “have been otherwise occupied.”

Figuring the guy just doesn’t want to talk about it, Dean drops the subject. After a couple of false starts when he tries to make conversation, he kind of gives up. Cas seems preoccupied and fidgety.

“You know, if you ever need to talk about something, I’m here, right?”

He watches Cas pick at a cuticle. “Yes, Dean. I normally enjoy our conversations. I just…” His head tilts to the side, as if he’s listening to something. “As I said, I’m a little preoccupied.”

“O-kay…”

As if on cue, Bobby comes in with fast-food bags, swearing about teenagers and taking an order properly. Cas stands up, wishes Dean well, and exits before Bobby even puts down the bags. Dean thinks whatever has the guy all wound up must really have him bothered. With a shrug, he tries to not dwell on it too much and focuses on Bobby and his continued ranting about how no pickles means NO PICKLES.

\---

The rest of the week is relatively normal. Dean collects rent, with some residents asking about his recovery from the “flu”. Benny fixes a loose step, a clogged tub drain, and repaints a newly vacated apartment. Bobby comes by frequently, grumping about the cost of things and the problems that Roman Enterprises keeps throwing their way. Dean sends him out to ride the lawn mower. Charlie is still working on a resolution to the whole property issue, and she thinks she might have an idea. She refuses to share however, stating it will take a little time and she doesn’t want to jinx it.

Cas keeps coming to visit, but not all the time and for shorter and shorter periods. Dean thinks maybe the guy just ran out of things to talk about. Neither of them like to talk about themselves or what it was like in the military, so conversation topics are limited. Even though Cas seems increasingly agitated about something, he still regularly alternates between looking anywhere but at Dean, and that laser-focus intense stare, which seems to bore straight into him.

What’s interesting is what it feels like to be mostly normal again. Since the detox his flashback nightmares have increased again, and his arm and knee get sore more frequently than they probably should, but he expects that. Dean just takes an Ibuprofen and keeps on going, like he’s learned to, taking one day at a time. Now that the worst of it is over, he can admit that he did have a problem and is glad that everyone helped him before it got too bad. Sam mentioned going to one of those anonymous meetings, but the idea creeps him out. He refused to see a shrink after getting out of rehab for his arm. Heck, he’s still able to drink beer after going off the deep end with the booze, so it’s not like he has an addictive personality, he just becomes a little… dependant… and needs a swift kick in the ass to get set straight again.

\---

Over the weekend Dean takes the opportunity to clean his own apartment as thoroughly as possible. He even goes out and buys new sheets, swearing he can still smell the sweat from his detox on his regular ones. He sees Cas during his usual evening walk, but doesn’t get his attention, thinking the guy needs some alone time, especially since it seems they have less to talk about lately. He does, however, notice the jerky behavior Cas exhibits and the way the guy seems to be talking to himself. After Cas turns a corner, Dean thinks maybe on Monday he should call Anna and make sure the dude’s doing okay. After all, he just wants to make sure the residents are alright, and staying safe. Well, that and he likes to think he and Cas are sort of friends now. Turning away from the darkening window, he digs a beer out of the fridge and settles in to catch up on some TV.

Sunday morning, Dean wakes up with a hard-on. He gives a relieved sigh as he reaches down to take it in hand. He’d done some research about the side effects of the pain medication, and when he read about decreased sexual drive, he was a little worried. Not that there’s anyone he’s wanted to be with lately, but a man always worries about… you know… performance. After a few strokes to confirm that indeed, he’s definitely in the mood, he rolls out of bed and hits the shower, taking care of a need he hadn’t even realized he’d missed for at least two months. After he finishes his shower and has breakfast, the afterglow wears off and he wonders if he’s going to be alone for the rest of his life, as he thinks about his inability to really connect with someone since coming back from war.

******

Waking up drenched in sweat, Castiel sits up and swipes a hand through his damp hair. He’s been plagued by dreams of war, and his cousin’s voice keeps echoing through his mind. He wonders why this new madness has decided to use Luc’s voice. Perhaps because they never confirmed his death?

Ever since he had gone to live with his uncle Zachariah after his parents’ death, he had noticed the second oldest son had been the black sheep of the family. Always rebelling and questioning, Luc’s mission in life seemed to disappoint his father as much as possible. He studied liberal arts in college, instead of business or anything Zachariah would have considered a “noble profession”. He became enamored with the activist crowd and dropped out when his father stopped paying tuition. He’d dropped off the map for a while and didn’t resurface until it was discovered he was a higher-up in what was considered an eco-terrorist organization. Michael, the eldest, had become a police officer and later joined the Department of Homeland Security. He was the one that had found Luc basically leading an eco-cult. The group believed that the only way to heal the damage to the earth was to rid it of humanity.

Castiel remembers the day he’d heard the news that the main compound for the organization had been raided and a fire had broken out, killing hundreds of people, his cousin Luc supposedly included. But they had never positively identified his remains, so he always wondered if he was out there somewhere, in hiding. But now, he has his cousin’s disembodied voice for company. He knows it’s all his imagination, that he needs to tell someone about it; but at the same time, the voice in his head seems to make a kind of twisted sense, and he keeps quiet about it to Anna and during his weekly therapy sessions. He has also completely stopped taking his medications by now.

As a result, Castiel has been sleeping less and less lately, plagued by nightmares and his own thoughts of doubt. He puts on a farce that is becoming more and more difficult to maintain around Anna. At his last therapy session, he just knew the psychiatrist could see right through him and he expects Garth will send him back to the hospital any day now. Not to mention Anna came home Monday and checked all his medications, claiming she needed to see if any were getting low. He knows she was counting pills, making sure he was still taking them. He’s been careful to make sure he takes them where she can see, only to spit them out later. When she’s not home, they go straight into the toilet.

Yesterday was September eleventh and he avoided all media, even excusing himself during Anna’s sitcoms to go upstairs and scribble in his notebook. Looking at his clock, the glowing numbers inform him that it’s 3 AM. Yes, he actually managed to sleep for two hours this time. He gets up and takes a long shower, washing the sweat from his body before going downstairs and trying to eat a bowl of oatmeal. He seems to have lost much of his appetite recently as well, and he doesn’t expect to eat much as he takes his bowl and sits down at the dining room table and turns on the television, intending to flip through the DVR for the show Anna watched last night.

When the screen flickers to life, Castiel realizes Anna left it on the news and reaches to change the channel but freezes when he sees what’s on the screen. There was a riot in Libya, and a US embassy was attacked. And it happened on September 11th. As he changes channels, seeing all the stations currently reporting the attack in Benghazi, the voice in his head gets louder and louder.

_You see? There will never be peace among humans, there will always be hate, and conflict, and strife, and war…_

When Anna comes downstairs, she finds Castiel glued to the screen, breakfast forgotten. He has moved to the floor in front of the TV, arms wrapped around his knees as he changes channels back and forth between three or four different news stations. When she tries to pry the remote from his grip, he growls at her, eyes never leaving the screen. She tries to get his attention several times, but he just sits and stares at the television screen, mumbling and listening to the voice inside his head.

_Something must be done, cousin. The world has a sickness…_

Some time after Anna leaves for work, Castiel goes upstairs and grabs his notebook and sits back down in front of the television, flipping to a new page and scribbling frantically.

***

While Dean sees off a couple that stopped by to look at an apartment, he notices Anna pull in with her little silver Kia and waves at her. Instead of waving back, she changes course and parks a little crookedly right in front of the office. In spite of her colorful scrubs, which have different animals wearing sunglasses, she looks tired and worried. Concerned, he asks her what’s wrong. She hesitates for a moment, before finally replying.

“Have… have you seen Castiel today?”

Dean frowns at her for a second, because he hasn’t seen him at all, now that he thinks about it.

“No, why? Is something wrong?”

Anna seems hesitant to say much more, then says, “I know you called me and wanted to check up on my cousin, but has he been acting… odd lately?”

Asking if Cas has been acting odd is like asking if the Queen wears a crown. Dean’s not sure what she’s getting at and asks her to clarify.

“Well, he normally avoids watching the news, because you never know when they’re going to report about wars or something like that. But this morning, he was absolutely riveted to the coverage about Benghazi this morning and wouldn’t let me turn the TV off.”

Scowl deepening, Dean becomes a little concerned. He and Benny had poked around on the internet to learn about the attack, but even they couldn’t take much news about it. If Cas has been obsessing about it, this could be bad.

“Would you like me to go with you to check up on him?”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, “I don’t want to bother you, but…”

He puts on his best reassuring smile as he hangs a sign on the door and locks up.

“Not a bother, just helping out. I’m sure he’s just fine.”

The smile doesn’t reach his eyes though, because he is worried about the dude. He’s seen what happens if Cas gets too stressed out, and if no one’s home to help him out… He says he’ll meet Anna there and starts walking in the direction of her apartment as she gets in her car. She’s just unlocking the door when he arrives, calling for Cas and pushing the door wide. The TV is off and the apartment is eerily quiet. The day has been unseasonably cool, so the air conditioner isn’t even on. She turns to Dean and holds out a hand, gesturing for him to stay at the doorway.

“Castiel? Are you home?”

Anna sets down her bag and ventures deeper inside, and Dean shoves his hands in his pockets, trying to look casual while he hangs out on the stoop.

“It’s Anna, I just got home…”

He can see her start to head up the stairs and he sticks his head in to look around, just realizing he’s never really seen inside the place since they moved in. The living room has a simple, cream-colored couch, with a maple coffee table. There are matching end tables and a floor-lamp, with recliners on either side. There’s some simple art on the walls that kind of looks Asian, and through the entryway to the back end of the house, he can see a bowl sitting on the dining room table.

Upstairs, Anna has knocked on Cas’ door and has gone inside. He can see the light from the partially opened door illuminate the hallway at the top of the stairs. There’s a muffled conversation that gets progressively louder with every moment. Then there’s a shout and a thump, and Dean can hear Cas yelling something in a kind-of chant.

Dean sprints up the stairs and throws open the door to see Cas pinning Anna to the wall, an arm at her throat and a palm on her head as he screams what seems to be Latin -why Latin?- at her, red in the face, as she scrambles at his arm trying to catch a breath, eyes wide and terrified. He steps in, placing a foot between Cas’, then loops an arm up and over the one at Anna’s throat, pulling it down into a bar-arm, while reaching up around the one on her forehead in a half-nelson. When he’s got his arms locked in position, he uses his weight to pull and lift Cas away from the wall and Anna. With the man trying to buck free the whole time, Dean holds on, whispering in Cas’ ear to calm down.

“That’s not Anna!” Cas cries out, and tries kicking at his cousin crumpled on the floor and gasping for breath.

“If that’s not Anna then who is it?”

Cas gives another buck before replying, “She’s possessed, Dean, by a demon. Can’t you see the black eyes?”

Dean looks down, and while Anna’s eyes are dilated with fear, they’re hardly black.

“Cas,” he tries to say calmly, “I want you to take a look at Anna and tell me what you see.”

Slowly turning the man to look at his cousin, Dean maneuvers them around so that Cas can’t kick out at her.

“Anna, c’mon and give Cas a look, show him your eyes.”

She looks up, eyes wide and frightened. He feels Cas sag a little in his restraining hold.

“Does she look possessed now?”

“But… what if it’s got you now, Dean?”

He readjusts his grip on Cas and hauls him over to the mirror.

“Look me in the eye, Cas. Do I look possessed?”

Cas looks hard at him through the mirror, and then he starts to look confused.

“But.. I know what I…”

“If I let you go, are you gonna attack anybody, Cas?”

“I… no, Dean, I won’t.”

Dean grabs the back of Cas’ hand to lock his wrist behind his back before letting go of the half-nelson. Now that he still has Cas restrained but a free hand, he takes the time to look around the room, almost completely wallpapered in crazy. There are drawings of angels, demonic faces with completely black eyes, strange symbols. He sees some handwritten chants in Latin, and something written in strange symbols that look completely foreign yet somehow familiar.

“What is all this?” He reaches out, flicking one of the pages with odd writing.

“That’s Enochian.”

Dean frowns, then looks at the rest of the room. He can see that another wall has these little strings connecting all these different pieces of paper. Leaning closer, he sees floods in Missouri connected to fires in Colorado. There’s a red string connecting the Mars lander to flooding in Manila.

_What the hell? Dude seems to have completely lost his shit._

“I mean, what is all this?”

Cas swivels his head to try to look at Dean.

“It’s all connected. Everything. After the attack I saw on television, it all became clear, how we’re heading for the apocalypse…”

Looking at Anna, Dean raises his eyebrows. Anna looks back and shrugs, concern flooding her face the more Cas talks.

“The war between angels and demons, it’s becoming more obvious in the signs. Luc says—”

Anna gasps, “Luc? My brother? He’s dead Castiel, has been for years.”

Cas shakes his head. “I can’t explain it, but I hear him Anna, so clearly…”

“Dude, listen to yourself.” Dean’s had just about enough of the crazy-talk. “You realize how you sound? Calm down for just a minute and think about what you just tried to do to Anna over there.”

He knows he has to do something, after all, the guy put up with him on his own crazy-train for a while there. Then something strikes him, something he’s afraid to ask, so he whispers the question into Cas’ ear.

“Dude, did you stop taking your medication? Because if you did…”

The drooped shoulders and hanging head in front of him explain everything. And the worst of it is, this might be his fault, because of his own detox. Did Cas get it into his head to stop taking his meds because of Dean?

As if Cas can read his thoughts, he says softly, “It’s not because of you, Dean. I chose to based off of other things unrelated to your problem.”

Something about what he says doesn’t quite ring true, but he lets it go for now.

“How long have you been hearing the voice?”

“About two weeks.”

“And when did you stop taking your meds?”

“A little after that.”

Cas sags even more as if revealing the truth is taking the wind out of his sails, exhausting him. Dean maneuvers him to the bed, sitting him down before letting go of the grip that kept the man in control.

“You gonna behave?”

Cas nods and slumps onto the bed, head hanging dejectedly. Dean goes to check on Anna to make sure she’s okay. Other than having been scared nearly to death, she seems fine. Damn, this was close. What might have happened if he hadn’t been there when she came home? Turning to look at Cas, Dean sees the man has the heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, and he's rocking back and forth. After a reassuring pat on Anna’s shoulder, he goes to sit on the bed in front of Cas and carefully pulls his hands away. Poor guy looks like he’s about to cry.

“I’m sorry. What have I done? This has been a grave mistake. Is Anna okay? Anna, I’m so sorry…”

Cas takes great, gulping breaths, and Dean realizes he’s starting to hyperventilate.

“Whoa there, calm down buddy. We got you, we got you.”

Cas curls up in a ball and rests his forehead on Dean’s thigh, trying to control his breaths.

“I should have known better, I did know better. What if Anna got hurt? Oh, Anna! Anna!”

This causes Anna to finally snap out of the frightened stupor she’d been in and she rushes over, wrapping her arms around her cousin, holding him tightly.

“Shhhh, it’s okay, I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.” She starts petting his back. “We’re gonna get you some help and it will all be okay.”

Cas starts shivering, his vocalizations nothing more than incoherent mumbling. Anna looks up at Dean and points at herself and the door, like she needs to go get something. He nods, and she places one of his hands on Cas’ back, and starts rubbing it in circles to give Dean the idea of what he should do. He nods again and keeps rubbing when she lets go. As she leaves the room Cas curls up tighter, and Dean keeps rubbing his back. He starts petting the man’s hair with his other hand, and humming a song. After a short time, Cas’ vocalizations get quiet, as if he’s listening to Dean hum.

Anna comes back in with a little blister pack for some kind of pill, and she shows it to him. Fast-dissolving Xanax. She makes a gesture for him to keep on with what he’s doing, and he takes a great lungful so he can continue humming. Carefully and with soft words, she coaxes Cas to take the pill under his tongue and she rests on her heels, watching as Dean pets and hums to Cas.   _Hey Jude_ , she mouths, curious. Dean just shrugs and keeps humming, rubbing Cas’ back and petting his hair, watching the shivers subside. She looks in awe as Cas actually seems to nuzzle Dean’s thigh, turning his head so he can pet the hair in the back. Dean just keeps going, trying to not freak out about how intimate this all feels, and begins combing his fingers through the hair at Cas’ nape.

Slowly, Cas’ breathing steadies and slows, and Dean takes the opportunity to stop humming. But he keeps up with the rubbing and petting after a nod from Anna. When Cas lets out a long sigh, Anna gets Dean’s attention and mouths that it’s okay to get up. After they prop a pillow under Cas’ head and wrap a blanket around his shoulders, they creep downstairs.

While Anna heats up some water for tea, Dean leans against the little bar that separates the dining room from the kitchen.

“So,” Anna starts, “Why’d you decide to hum ‘Hey Jude’ to him?”

Dean shrugs again. “I dunno. I think I remember my mom used to sing it to me when I was a little kid. Thought it might work.”

Smiling, Anna pours water into a mug and asks if he would like some tea, but he declines. “You know,” she takes a sip from her mug, “That’s the first time I’ve seen him calm down so fast after an attack.” She leans against the kitchen counter. “Either you’re very good, or he really likes you.”

He frowns at the thought, thinking about how Cas had been avoiding him lately. “I actually kind of doubt both those theories.” He clears his throat before continuing, “Dude actually hasn’t been around much lately, I just thought it had to do with us running out of stuff to talk about. Never thought it would be something like this.”

Anna gives him an odd sideways glance. “Oh, I doubt he could run out of things to talk about with you, Dean.”

What’s that supposed to mean? He lets it drop, as he glances at the clock over the stove and realizes it’s past closing time and he’s still got paperwork to finish.

“Well, I should be going…”

“Oh,” Anna sets down her mug, “I’m sorry, you probably have plenty of things to do instead of listening to our troubles.” She gives him a hug. “Thank you again for your help.”

He pats her on the back, and turns toward the door. “Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

Hand on the doorknob, he turns back, “You’ll let me know how things go with him?”

Nodding, Anna gives a small smile. “Of course.”

\---

Back in his office, Dean sinks into his chair. _That_ was definitely different. As he sorts through the last of the paperwork for the day, he thinks about what he just witnessed and wonders what Cas must have gone through to make him lose it like that. Sure, Cas seems to have family, but how much support? After all, he could probably have easily gone to live with Gabe, and Cas has vaguely mentioned other family. It almost feels like Anna’s the one that got stuck caring for him, even though she obviously loves him.

Dean is suddenly very glad to have Sam and Bobby in his life. He hasn’t been as bad as Cas, but every time he’s lost his shit, they’ve been there for him. Just how differently would things have gone if he didn’t have that kind of support? He wonders if he’d either be in a padded room or a jail cell himself. More than likely a jail cell he thinks, remembering his issue with drinking.

He thinks about how Cas had been so comforted by the simple touches he had offered. Dean had always been one to crave physical affection, but Cas… Cas seemed to _need_ it to come down from whatever place he’d gone to in his head. He smiles to himself, remembering how Cas had nuzzled into the hair petting. It always used to work on Sam after a nightmare, so it seemed worth a try. Same with the humming. He just wanted to comfort the dude, that’s all. Yeah.

The next day, he gets a call from Anna saying Cas has been placed in a private mental hospital, the nice one downtown run by the Avera hospital complex. Since he was admitted under his own free will, he can leave when he feels it’s time to try living on his own again. She also says it’s not a good idea to try to visit him until they’ve got his new medication dosing corrected, as he might be a little erratic until then.

The rest of the month is boring, and Dean finds he misses Cas; the quirky, crazy dude that he is. Dean realizes just how much Cas was doing during his walks when he starts having to pick up trash and twigs on his own. Even the occasional wrench in the works from Roman Enterprises doesn’t really hold his attention for long, but then again with Charlie and Sam working on that problem from two different angles, he guesses there’s not much he can do about it anyway. Dean finds that without Cas’ visits, he actually feels a little lonely.

One evening, after a particularly busy day, Anna shows up at his front door. She’s wearing tight, hip-hugger jeans, a low-cut white blouse, and a thin green jacket. She holds up a bottle of wine.

“Hey, so… it’s awfully quiet in the apartment all by myself, I was wondering if you could keep me company?”

He knows it’s a bad idea to drink the wine, but at least it’s not hard liquor, right? He lets her in, and after some conversation, they make it through most of the bottle, sitting on his couch. Anna talks a bit about her family, and how screwed up they are. Basically, it’s just her, Gabe and Cas left. Sure, there’s other cousins all over the country, but it’s not like they spent their childhoods together the way those three have.

Dean shares a little about his own experiences growing up, tongue loosened by the wine. He mentions his mom, helping raise Sammy, how Bobby became a surrogate father figure, joining the Marines. When she asks about what he did while serving, Dean pulls away.

“Anna, I don’t want to… I can’t talk about that.” He places a hand on his scarred arm.

“It’s okay Dean, I understand.” She places a hand on his knee. “Just remember you’re not alone, alright?”

They stare at each other a moment. Dean gives a half smile, and Anna looks back all wide-eyed, smiling in return. Then, she leans in and presses a kiss lightly to his lips. She pulls back and Dean notices her dilated pupils, rosy cheeks, plump lips. Reaching up, Anna slides her hand along his cheek, and he nuzzles into it. How long has it been since he’s been looked at, touched this way? She tilts her head up, mouth an inch from his, inviting. He takes that invitation.

They end up sweaty and naked on his couch, and when she touches the scar on his shoulder, he jerks away. Dammit, this was a huge mistake. Sex with Anna was great, but… it just feels wrong. He’s reminded of why Bobby made the rule of not sleeping with the residents. Now it’s just awkward. How’s he supposed to keep things professional now, when every time he sees her, he’s going to remember this? Already, he can feel a low-grade headache forming at his temples from the wine. Sitting up, Dean pulls a pillow into his lap and buries his face in his hands. Sensing the shift in mood, Anna quickly dresses and after a couple of aborted attempts at a casual goodbye, closes the door behind her on the way out. Thank God he remembered a condom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna leave this here:  
> https://youtu.be/kszHhHBjJm8  
> Jensen singing Simple Man at Vancon 2015.


	10. Awkward Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: mental health issues/treatment, mental hospital/therapy

Castiel finds this hospital is much nicer than the one he stayed in that was affiliated with the VA. For one, they call it a “Behavioral Health Center” which almost makes it sound like it’s where famous people go to straighten out or something. He has his own room and it looks almost like a tiny hotel room more than a cell in a psych ward. There’s a courtyard with a butterfly garden, and he enjoys his time outside, after they let him have it. His first week he’s kept under observation, especially since he’s been hallucinating. They put him on some antipsychotics and he goes to meetings with a doctor twice daily.

His assigned doctor, Dr. Andeo, seems nice enough and she asks him to call her Naomi. She says if he truly wishes to get better he needs to be completely honest with her, but when she says electroconvulsive therapy might be an option if the new medication doesn’t work, he gets worried. He doesn’t want to lie, but he really does not want to go through that again. He tells her so. She makes a note on the pad she’s scribbling on, and promises to look at his file.

The first day he’s allowed outside, he perches on a stone bench in the middle of the butterfly garden and turns his face to the sun. There’s a light breeze that ruffles his hair, and he takes a deep breath of air that hasn’t been recycled by the building’s ventilation. Compared to the controlled atmosphere inside, it’s a little chilly and Castiel wishes he had his trenchcoat. Dr. Naomi thought it was best he learned to not use items as emotional crutches, so he had to give it up in order to receive outdoor privileges. Luckily, the others here don’t try to bother him much, so he can sit in peace alone at least. Feeling a tickle on the back of his hand, he glances down to see a tiny, pale butterfly perched on his knuckle. It’s late in the season, so it might be a moth. He watches it flex its tiny wings before it flutters off on a stiff breeze.

After a few more moments, he decides it’s too chilly and goes back inside. By the end of the second week, Dr. Naomi insists Castiel try wearing “normal clothes” instead of the comfortable white scrubs he always wears. Anna stops by with a selection of clothes that have been in storage since he joined the Army. It almost shocks him to see how much blue he used to wear, considering his work uniform was always in shades of blue as an EMT. He finds a nice, dark blue, rib-knit zippered sweater to wear on cool days. Luckily, most of his old clothes fit well enough Anna doesn’t have to go buy him a new wardrobe.

During one therapy session with Dr. Naomi, she asks him why he now chooses to go by Castiel, when until he joined the Army he went by Jimmy.

“I don’t see how that is important. It’s one of my given names, and it was what everyone called me when I became part of the Aviation SpecOps.”

“Yes, but why do you continue to insist on being called that name by your family, now that you’re back?”

He sits and thinks about it for a moment, before responding. “I think… maybe it’s because I feel like the person I was before I left is gone, and who I am now is completely different.”

“And why is that?”

It takes him longer to respond this time, and he’s obviously uncomfortable revealing this much about himself. Dr. Naomi merely waits patiently.

“When... Before I joined the Army, I was someone dedicated to helping people. I was hours away from my Paramedic certification. But after 9/11, it didn’t seem like enough.” He gathers his thoughts before continuing. “When I joined the Army, I thought I could help more people, make a bigger difference. I tried to be the change I wanted to see in the world.”  He pauses again, frowning.

“But that’s not what you got to be, is it?” Dr. Naomi asked.

“Hmmm…” is all he replies.

“I understand there is sensitive information you might not be at liberty to discuss, but I would like for you to tell me about what happened.”

Castiel picks at his cuticles while he talks about training to be a soldier, how he was chosen to be a Ranger, and then how he got recruited into the SpecOps Aviation Regiment. He becomes increasingly agitated as he speaks about the things his superiors ordered him to do, and the doctor makes him stop when he’s torn his cuticles to the point of bleeding.

“Let’s stop here for now, Castiel.” She hands him a tissue for his bleeding fingers. “What I want you to think about for next time is anything you did during that time to save someone. A rescue, an act of kindness. Can you do that for me?”

He nods, and she sends him away. While he’s in his room that night, he thinks of the time he pulled a woman from a crumbled hut, and bandaged her wounds. There was the child he gave a candybar to during a recon mission. And then there’s Dean. Sergeant Winchester, who he saved from a fiery death. Yes, the man is almost as damaged as he is, but knowing he has gotten to meet the man again, and seen him function outside of military life, it makes him smile. He falls asleep thinking of Dean, and how much Castiel has learned about the man thus far.

One day while Castiel is in the day room, working on a jigsaw puzzle of a rhinoceros, a woman sits next to him. He knows her, Daphne. She keeps calling him Emmanuel. After the first few times of trying to explain that’s not who he is, he’d given up. For some reason, she thinks he’s her husband. When he asked Dr. Naomi about it, he was told that she lost her husband in a tragic accident and now any time she sees a man that resembles him, she thinks that man is her husband. Apparently, he had blue eyes and dark hair.

Today, Daphne seems content to watch Castiel assemble the pieces of the puzzle in silence. However, when he finishes, Daphne reaches for his hand, holding it. At first, this used to make Castiel extremely uncomfortable. But now, he finds that helping comfort the woman who lost her husband… is therapeutic for himself as well. Especially after this morning’s therapy session. Dr. Naomi asked him about Dean.

Castiel tried to explain that Dean is the first real friend he’s made since coming back, but the doctor seemed to think there was more to it than that. He’d promised to never tell anyone about Dean’s withdrawal ordeal, and discussing his feelings for the man would require divulging that secret. After prodding him for answers, he finally told her that some secrets were not his to reveal. She seemed to understand to a point, and let the subject drop. Although now he’s afraid that she assumes they're in some sort of relationship, which would be egregiously wrong. Castiel knows that there’s no way Dean would want to have more than friendship with him, a broken shell of a man. Emphasis on _man_.

Daphne squeezes his hand. “Is everything alright, Emmanuel?”

He looks into her pale eyes, and sees the worry there.

“I’m sorry, today’s session was… upsetting.”

She smiles at him, stands up, and gives a tug at their still-joined hands.

“Come on, it’s almost lunch time. Would you like a sandwich?”

Nodding, Castiel gets up to follow her to the cafeteria.

***

The first week of October, Dean gets a call from Anna. After some awkward greetings, she says that Castiel’s doctor called and said that seeing family and friends might be good for him. She says the doctor actually asked about Dean specifically, by name. He agrees to go with her to see Cas that weekend, although he wonders why the doctor asked for him specifically. Well, yeah, it’s not like Cas has many friends in the first place, but he doesn’t see how showing up could help the guy.

There’s a cold snap, and Saturday morning is frigid and overcast, everything covered with a layer of frost. He and Anna agreed earlier to take the Impala to see Cas, and he has to let the car run a while to warm up. After an awkward silence in his kitchen where he offers Anna coffee, they share another awkward silence in the car during the drive. Having slept together seems to have strained any conversation they try to have. During the drive, with plenty of silence to let him think, he wonders, like he has for the past couple of weeks, if this was all his fault somehow. After all, it all seemed to trigger after Dean went through his own breakdown. _Way to be full of yourself, Winchester_. He tries to drown out his thoughts by putting in a tape and turning up the volume, the sounds of AC/DC blaring through the car’s sound system. At least it’s better than the awkward silence.

When they show up at the “Behavioral Health Center”, Dean’s shocked at how nice it looks. He was expecting an institution and this is almost like a freaking resort. Damn, their family must be loaded. They go to the front desk, sign in and get their visitor badges before being escorted into a common room. Dean almost doesn’t recognize Cas because he’s wearing something other than that damn trenchcoat and white pajamas.

As they get closer, he realizes there’s a woman with Cas, and they’re holding hands. _What?_ Wait, since when has Cas had a woman? Dean stalls his movement, and Anna continues forward. When Cas notices their arrival, he pulls his hand from the woman’s grasp and stands up, giving Anna a hug. The woman, with shoulder length brown hair, stands up and looks confused. She calls Cas Emmanuel, and asks who they are. Everything is awkward as Cas tries to explain, introducing them to the woman, whose name is Daphne.

Dean can’t help but feel very uncomfortable with all this, and Daphne’s expression gets more and more confused until a nurse directs them away from her and into a meeting room. There’s a primly suited brunette with her hair pulled back in a bun waiting at the end of a table. She introduces herself as Dr. Naomi Andeo and asks them to sit. While she talks about why they’re here, something about a communication exercise, Dean takes the opportunity to get a good look at Cas from across the table.

The guy seems pretty mellow, so whatever new drugs they’ve got him on must be working. He looks good in the button-down shirt and zippered sweater he’s in, and he’s all clean-shaven, his hair trimmed and brushed back off his forehead. But it’s not cropped as short as Dean’s, and there are little wisps curling behind his ears. As if he can feel Dean staring, Cas turns to look at him, and their eyes lock for a moment. Dean suddenly realizes the room is quiet, and he glances away to see the doctor and Anna looking at them. Clearing his throat, he mumbles something along the lines of: “Good to see you, buddy,” and slumps down in his seat, face warm. Cas calmly looks at him another moment before turning his attention back to the doctor.

the whole thing takes a while, with Cas asking Anna forgiveness for his assault on her. He also apologizes to Dean for the trouble he’s caused, and then he thanks them both for their support and continued friendship. After platitudes, forgiveness, and lots of awkward hugging, it’s their turn to say something nice to Cas, thanking him for something. Anna mentions an event from childhood, where she got lost during a family outing and Cas found her. She goes on about how he’s more like a brother to her than a cousin, and there’s more hugging. When it’s Dean’s turn, he starts to thank Cas for all the stuff he’s picked up around the yard, but then he remembers something else. Dean thanks him for helping take care of him while he was “sick”, carefully dancing around the subject since Anna doesn’t know the whole story and he’s not sure how much Cas has told his doctor. Cas seems to blush during this, and Dean catches the doctor look sharply at the man and make a note on her paper. What’s all that about, anyway? There’s another awkward hug, and Dean studiously avoids looking Cas in the eye afterwards, feeling heat creep up his face again.

_Jeez, is the touchy-feely crap over yet? I can feel lady-parts growing._

Afterwards, the doctor leaves them alone to visit, and Dean finally gets to ask Cas about Daphne. While Cas explains about the woman’s problems, he has trouble meeting Dean’s eyes. Being more insensitive than he has any right to be, Dean makes a joke about hooking up in the loony bin. Cas sputters, trying to deny it, and even though he knows he should let the subject go, Dean can’t help but continue with the ribbing until Anna smacks him upside the head and tells him to stop. Okay, so maybe it’s because he wants to see how far he has to go to get a rise out of the new Cas, so much calmer than he’s used to seeing. Not because he’s a little jealous. Nope.

They take a short tour of the facility that’s open to visitors, before Cas claims he’s tired and needs to rest. The trip back to the apartments is as awkward as the trip to go see Cas. If not more so.

\---

Dean is studiously ignored by Anna until she calls him the next Friday saying she’s picking Cas up and bringing him home over the weekend. She wouldn’t have called him even then, but one of the stipulations of his release is he have a nurse with him, so she’s going to stay with a friend while the nurse uses her room, and wants to check to see if that’s within the rules. Dean says it’s fine, and asks to be kept in the loop as to how long the situation will be that way.

Dean finds he’s distracted on the day Cas is supposed to come back from… well, after seeing the place he’s been staying, Dean would call it a vacation. He knows that most likely they’re not going to show up until the afternoon, but he finds himself looking up at every glint from a passing car. He’s just closing up for the day when he sees Anna’s familiar little Kia, followed by a dilapidated, beat-up Honda, more rust than paint. He wanders over to their apartment, greeting them as they get out of the car. Cas smiles wide, obviously happy to be back home.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Heya, Cas.”

Dean keeps his hands in his pockets and sticks to the sidewalk. What crawls out from behind the steering wheel of the rustbucket Honda is a tiny woman with long, wavy brown hair and an attitude that says she will not put up with any shit. She gives Dean a head-to-toe once-over, then inclines her head at him before looking at Anna.

“So, where am I gonna be crashing?”

Dean can see Anna try to control her face, obviously not happy with the choice of live-in care the facility gave them.

“I’ll show you in just a moment. Meg, this is the apartment manager, Dean. Dean, this is the nurse that will be staying in my room for a while, Meg.”

Meg looks him over again and leers, “Nice to meet you, Cowboy.”

Unimpressed, Anna turns to Dean. “Would you mind helping bring in her bags?”

He shrugs and goes over to Meg’s car, and she hands him a suitcase and a duffle bag. Then she saunters up to Anna like Dean’s just a bellboy. _Rude_ , he thinks, before lifting up her luggage and following everyone into the apartment. Inside, he sees where Anna’s packed up most of her stuff, boxes stacked neatly near the door.

As Anna leads Meg up the stairs, Dean drops her bags off at the bottom of the stairs and looks at Cas. He just looks back and shrugs.

“How are you, Dean?”

It’s Dean’s turn to shrug and he sticks his hands in his back pockets, rocking back on his heels.

“Eh… Work’s work, shuffle some papers, show some apartments…”

“And your health?”

“Oh,” Dean bobs his head to the side, “Taking one day at a time,” he glances up the stairs, checking to make sure the coast is clear. “Staying clean.”

Cas nods, “Hygiene is important.”

Clenching his hands in his pockets, Dean closes his eyes and denies the strong urge to facepalm right now.

“Yeeaahhh…”

Dean waits for a moment and realizes Cas isn’t going to say anything else. Making a popping sound with his lips, he pulls his hands from his pockets and clasps them together. Awkwardville, population two. Time to blow this joint.

“Well, I’m gonna…” He nods toward the door.

“Of course, Dean. Have a good evening.”

He opens the door, takes a step out and turns to see Cas watching him.

“If you need anything…”

“Yes, I know how to reach you. And thank you again.”

“Yeah, sure. See ya!”

Dean closes the door and heads off to his own apartment. _What the hell was THAT_ , he thinks, _Dude, seriously, what’s wrong with you?_ He tells himself he’s just worried about his friend, considering the last time he saw him in the apartment he was trying to exorcise his cousin, thinking she was possessed or something. He’s surprised the guy got locked up for only a month. But it must have just been some weird kind of chemical imbalance thing they took care of with new meds or something, because Cas seems fine now. Heck, maybe even better than before.

During  the weekend, Dean sees Cas puttering around the property, doing his normal route along the grounds. But it’s different now. For one thing, it’s still kinda weird seeing Cas wear something other than his pajamas and trench coat. The dude’s taken to wearing that blue zip-up sweater whenever the weather allows, and casual slacks. Dean also can’t help but notice that Cas isn’t just a skinny dude, that he’s packing a little muscle under all that clothing. Who would’ve thought he was hiding it under that baggy old outfit? And no, he doesn’t spend any more time than would be considered normal checking the guy out, he’s just being observant.

On Monday, Dean even gets a visit during lunch time, and Cas actually opens up a bit, speaking about some of the things that happened while he was “away”. He’d love to spend more time with the guy, but people come by to look at an apartment so he has to shoo him off. In the afternoon Dean runs the riding mower over the fallen leaves, the easiest way to clean them up. It’s fairly warm today, and he has to shuck his jacket in the sun. He spots Cas reading under a tree, and waves at him, then mows circles around the dude, making motions like he’s racing, which makes him laugh. _Whoa_ , has he ever seen Cas actually laugh before? The guy’s whole face gets involved. Mouth open and gums exposed, his eyes squint and crinkle at the corners. Even his nose scrunches up. Dean has to stop to keep from wrecking the mower, and smiles back at the man sitting at the base of the maple tree and laughing, colorful leaves falling all around him. He realizes he’s been staring when Cas’ expression shifts, and he asks if he should move so Dean can finish.

“Nah, I’m just about finished for the day, anything left over I can get tomorrow, with the freshly fallen stuff.”

Cas nods and picks his book back up as he reclines against the tree trunk. It’s a hardcover without a jacket cover, so Dean can’t make out what it is.

“Well enjoy the rest of the lovely day.”

Dean puts the mower into gear, “Yeah, you too man. See ya.”

Tuesday, when Cas stops by around noon, he seems almost manic, full of energy and talking a mile a minute. Dean practically has to shove him out the door to get any work done. He wonders if this is a facet of the guy’s true personality or just a reaction to the meds.

It’s another warm day, and after the office is closed, Dean realizes he needs to check the sprinklers before they get blown out for the winter. He turns on the individual zones one at a time, checking for damage. When he gets to the zone near Cas’ apartment, he comes around the corner to see the man playing in the water, laughing out loud and soaking wet. Yeah, it may be warm, but it’s not that warm.

“What the hell are you doing, Cas?”

“Come on Dean, it’s fun!”

Cas has that wide open grin on his face, all gums and teeth, and holds a hand out for him.

Dean manages to wrangle the man out of the spray of water and onto the patio. They’re both dripping now, but Cas is completely soaked through.

“Dammit, Cas, get inside before you catch a cold.”

Cas pouts, but obeys and slides open the patio door.

Once inside, Dean strips off his jacket, and his shirts underneath are mostly dry except around the collar. He looks around and asks, “Where’s Meg?”

Cas shrugs, unzipping and shucking off his waterlogged sweater. “Shopping, I think? She said she’d be back in about an hour.”

Of course, dude took the opportunity to go prancing through the sprinklers while the caretaker was away.

Sighing, Dean kicks off his wet boots and leaves them by the door. He looks up at Cas’ hair, still dripping from his romp through the sprinklers. “C’mon, let’s go find you a towel.”

They head upstairs and Cas peels out of his button-up, leaving a soaking gray undershirt clinging to his skin. Dean finds a towel for himself and hangs it around his neck before selecting the fluffiest one he can find and towels off Cas’ hair, trying to not look at the fact the guy is now peeling off his pants. Jeez, it smells good in here. What is that?

Cas backs away and wriggles out of his undershirt as well, and Dean can see that Cas has a natural tan. And pecs bigger than his, and the guy’s actually in pretty decent shape. Is that a mole right above his nipp… He glances at Cas’ left shoulder and sees the tattoo there and freezes. It’s a shield shape filled in with blue, and a pair of red wings stretched out, a black dagger pointing up in the center. He’s seen this design, he knows he has.

“Dean?”

He looks up and Cas’ hair is all over the place, so he reaches forward to try to pat it down. Cas grabs his wrist and they stand there a moment, frozen, staring at each other. A half smile on his face, Cas leans forward and kisses Dean on the mouth. There’s a brief moment of _What… I … huh?_ before his brain goes completely offline. Stunned, Dean blinks, allowing Cas to kiss him until the man pulls away, looking up at him through his lashes.

“Thank you, Dean,” sighs Cas, lips parted with a dreamy look on his face.

Dean’s heart rate increases and a shiver runs up his spine. Reality finally snaps back into place, and he can feel the blush starting from his neck , heating up and spreading all the way to the top of his head.

_Uhh…_

He stumbles back, tripping over Cas’ pants… DO NOT LOOK AT HIS LEGS or his CROTCH or, Jesus Christ, his HIPS... He averts his eyes and fumbles down the stairs and out the door. He’s halfway home when he realizes he forgot his jacket and boots. Dammit, he’ll buy new ones. He’s inside his apartment, leaning up against his locked door when he realizes he still has one of Cas’ towels draped around his neck. As if it were on fire, he yanks it off and tosses it to the side.

 _What the hell was THAT?_ he thinks, _Dude just… Was that… Did Cas just…_ he touches the tips of his fingers to his lips, remembering the feel of Cas’ mouth. Okay, there definitely needs to be adjustments to the dude’s medication, if Cas is kissing people as thanks. Because that’s all that was, right? Right?

******

When Castiel arrives back at his apartment after spending a month… away, he sees Dean standing at the curb. He smiles, thinking about how Dean showed up just to welcome him back. Dean gets distracted by the rudeness of his nurse, Meg. She’s not his first choice, but what he’s seen of her at the “center”, she seems proficient enough.

After everyone goes inside, with Dean being gracious enough to carry in Meg’s bags, Castiel finds he’s a little tongue-tied. He tries to break the ice by asking him how he’s doing.  After asking about his health, Dean’s response about cleanliness confuses him for a moment, and noticing the other man’s face after mentioning hygiene, he’s sure he has missed a cue somewhere. While he ponders this, Dean makes a noise and announces his departure. While Castiel hates to see him leave so soon, he can’t think of a reason to get the man to hang around longer. When the door closes, Castiel sighs, wishing he had better social skills.

This is, of course, when Meg comes stomping down the stairs, huffing at the fact Dean left her bags by the door. While she gets settled into Anna’s room, (It will always be Anna’s even if Meg never leaves) Castiel helps pack a load of boxes into Anna’s car. He hates she’s going somewhere else, but he wants to be out of the center, working on improving himself in a more comfortable environment.

Over the weekend Cas tries to get back into a routine, going on his walks again, but taking the doctor's advice and wearing “regular street clothes”. Dr. Naomi allowed him his coat back, but strongly encouraged him to keep it in the back of his closet, to help break his dependency on it. He thinks about when Dr Naomi confronted him after the visit, about his feelings for Dean. Were they that obvious? She said if he’s more open with Dean about how he feels, he might be surprised by the result. He tried to explain about the woman he saw with Dean, but Dr. Naomi just gave him one of her soul piercing looks, so he said he’d try. One of the problems is, he’s not exactly sure just what he feels for Dean. He’s only been attracted to a handful of people in his life, and is woefully ignorant of just what he’s supposed to feel or do. Dr. Naomi said not to stress out about it, and to just be open and let things happen.

Monday, Castiel stops by the office to see Dean during his lunch break, something he’s glad to be able to do again. He’s able to talk to the man more, and he’s glad that Dean seems happy to see him. In the afternoon, the weather is so fine he can’t help taking a library book out to one of the trees that are shedding their foliage. He settles under a maple, gold and orange and red all around him. The book he’s reading is an old Sherlock Holmes anthology, and he’s engrossed in it until he hears the mower getting close.

Dean’s using the John Deere to pick up the leaves, an extra large bag attached to the back. When he notices Castiel seated under the tree, he waves and then starts picking up leaves around his tree. Dean leans forward, makes a face and sticks his arms out, acting crazy and it makes Castiel laugh. The mower stops, and as his laughter subsides, he notices Dean staring at him, an odd expression on his face.

“Dean, am I in your way? I can move…”

Dean insists he’s fine where he is, and after a while he continues on his way.

Tuesday Castiel wakes up full of energy. He was warned this might be a side effect of one of his new medications, and he walks a couple extra laps around the property, hoping to burn off some of the extra energy.  When he stops by to see Dean, he can’t hold still, and he ends up talking about the most inane things, but he can’t seem to stop himself. Dean seems to be bothered by this behavior, and eventually makes up an excuse to get him out of the office. He feels bad and hopes he can apologize for his behavior later.

In the evening, he’s sitting on his patio when he sees the sprinklers come on. He’s not sure why they’re being turned on during the day, but the sight of the sparkling water is irresistible, and it’s warm enough that he thinks a quick run-through wouldn’t hurt. By the time Dean comes into view, He’s completely soaked and it’s incredibly fun, splashing in the spray from the sprinkler heads. He tries to get Dean to join him, but instead the man drags him onto the patio, apparently worried about him catching a cold. He pouts as he enters the apartment, unwilling to admit he was getting a bit chilly.

Once inside, he begins to realize just how uncomfortable his wet clothes are, and manages to get his sweater off, dripping all over the floor. Dean seems concerned that Meg isn't around, but Castiel’s glad she happens to be out. That was fun. When Dean mentions getting a towel, Castiel takes a look at him. He’s removed his jacket, and he can see where the shirt collar is wet, but the rest is mostly dry, except for the man’s pants. His hair is spiky and wet, little drops glistening until Dean swipes a hand through it. On their way up the stairs, Castiel manages to get his button-up off, and he can feel his pants begin to chafe. As Dean towels him off, he surprises himself by taking his pants off in front of him. The feel of Dean’s hands and the warm, dry towel send a shiver down his spine, and he decides the t-shirt has to come off next. The shirt in a wet mound on the floor, Dean seems to be staring at him, mouth slightly agape. Then he sees Dean’s eyes lock on his tattoo, and he thinks, _this is it, he’ll finally figure it out_. He waits, but Dean’s expression scrunches up in confusion, like he can’t quite make the connection yet.

“Dean?”

He looks up, and his eyes go to Castiel’s hair. When he reaches out a hand, Castiel catches it, holding on to Dean’s wrist, and their eyes lock. Dean’s eyes are such a lovely shade of green, and Castiel can’t help himself as he leans in, pressing his lips to Dean’s in a simple kiss. It is impulsive, and Castiel just goes for it. Dean doesn’t pull away, so he stays like this for a moment longer, close enough to feel the other man’s body heat against his bare skin. Pure joy floods through him, and this simple act is enough to make Castiel realize his love for Dean. There’s no other explanation as to what this feeling can be, he tells himself, pulling away and looking at Dean dazedly.

“Thank you, Dean.”

He’s not entirely sure why he even says that, it just comes out. A lovely flush creeps up Dean’s neck and face, but his expression quickly changes from stunned to panic. In dismay, he watches as Dean tumbles and sputters, tripping over the wet clothes on the floor in an attempt to get away.

_Oh, no. What have I done?_

He hears the door close downstairs, and sinks to his knees on the bathroom rug. This has all gone terribly, terribly wrong. He knows better than to do something like that. It's typical, that just as his own feelings come to the surface, they're not reciprocated. Shame and regret take the place of everything good from moments before. When Meg comes back, she finds him still kneeling in the bathroom floor wearing only boxers, hands over his face, tears leaking from between his fingers.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

***

When Dean opens his door in the morning to go to work, he finds his boots lined up in front of his door, jacket neatly folded on top. As he lifts it, a small piece of paper flutters from the folds. He picks it up and in Cas’ neat writing it says, “I’m Sorry.” Yep, it had been the medication doing the kissing, not him. A mixed feeling of relief and disappointment rolls through him as he sets the clothing inside, reaching for his heavier coat since the weather seems to have tanked overnight.

Cas doesn’t show up during lunch time, no real surprise there, but Dean hopes that the whole bathroom event didn’t screw with Cas’ progress. He’d hate for it to be partially his fault if Cas got sent back. After lunch, he takes a quick walk and sees Meg’s rust bucket parked in front of Cas’ apartment, and he lets out a sigh of relief. If Cas got put away, then Meg wouldn’t still be hanging around, right? He figures he’ll give Cas a few days, and then if he hasn’t seen him by next week, he’ll stop by and let the dude know he doesn’t hold what he did against him. Because it was just the meds, right?

Sure enough, Cas doesn’t show for the rest of the week and Dean doesn’t see him wandering around, either. The possibility of Cas getting sent back eats at him all weekend. Monday at lunchtime, he shows up at Cas’ door. it takes a few moments before Meg answers it, a sour expression on her face.

“What do you want, Bowlegs?”

Wow, she’s blunt, isn’t she?

“Yeah, I was wondering if I could speak with Cas?”

She turns her head and shouts into the apartment, “Hey, Clarence! Your boyfriend wants to—”

The door is pushed closed, and he can hear scuffling on the other side. _Boyfriend?_ Oh, god. He told her. He can feel the heat in his cheeks when the door opens and Cas is there this time, eyes lowered.

“Sorry about that, Dean. Meg can be a bit…”

“Insensitive? Yeah, I got that.” He clears his throat. “Listen, I just wanted you to know that… um… about the other day…”

“Dean, I’m so sorry, that shouldn’t have happened—”

“Yeah, I get it, that was the medication, right?”

Cas looks up, eyes wide.

“Because, I understand they’ve got you on some new stuff, and… you know… You were already acting a little weird earlier, so… yeah…”

The look on Cas’ face is a bit hard to define, it’s almost one part confusion, one relief, and another… Dean can’t quite figure it out. But he can’t have Cas thinking he’d done something to make Dean upset. The guy seems to hold on to stuff like that.

“And, uhh, I shouldn’t have flipped out like that, was just caught off guard. I still wanna be your friend and all, so…” he waves his hand between them, “We good?”

A tiny smile lifts up a corner of Cas’ mouth.

“Yes, Dean. We’re good.”

“Right, ahh,” he pats Cas’ shoulder, “‘Cause I was worried about you buddy.”

There’s a strange noise from behind Cas, and whatever he sees when he turns makes him blush.

“ _Stop that,_ ” he whispers harshly, waving an arm behind the door. “If there’s nothing else?”

“Um, yeah, sure. I should get back to work anyway. See you later?”

“Yes, Dean. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

There’s another strange noise, and Cas is jostled, and he pushes Meg’s face, which suddenly appears, out of the door frame.

Dean smiles, “Yeah, tomorrow.”

When Cas closes the door, Dean walks back to the office, feeling as if a weight is lifted. No misunderstandings, everything’s cool.

******

Meg is giggling as Castiel sags against the door.

“Aww, does Clarence still have his boyfriend?” Meg taunts in a sing-song tone.

“Meg,” Castiel closes his eyes and grits his teeth. “If you insist on such inappropriate behavior, I can always call your superiors. And my name isn’t Clarence.”

She purses her lips and looks at him.

“And who do you think they’re going to believe? The nurse, or the crazy guy who thinks he sees demons?”

He glares at her. “What happened last week between Dean and I was just a misunderstanding, a glitch with the medication. I’ve already discussed it with Dr. Naomi.”

Meg gives him a smirk, before sauntering into the kitchen. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, loverboy.”

And he had talked to his doctor about it. She suggested a dosing change, and then acted like the incident wasn’t that big of a deal. Surely she couldn’t have known that Dean would come to check up on him, right? With a sigh, he heads up to his room. While Dean seems okay with what happened, it’s under false pretenses. He thinks it was entirely due to the medication. The problem is, Castiel now knows how he feels for the man, but it’s unrequited.  Being Dean’s friend will have to be close enough. He hopes he’s strong enough for this. He thinks of the smile Dean showed when he said he’d see him tomorrow.

***

When Cas starts coming by the office again, it’s a bit awkward at first. Yeah, they both said everything’s fine, but… Cas _kissed_ him. You don’t just get over that right away. He tries to not think about his own reaction, because, well, he’d never admit it to another soul, but he kind of liked it. And that just makes it all that much more awkward. Because Dean doesn’t like guys. Well, there was that short span of time after high school… But still, it’s been women all the way ever since. He was just experimenting, maybe rebelling against his dad a little bit. Okay, so Sam might try to point out his fascination with Dr. Sexy, but he wants to BE Dr. Sexy, not… be sexy _with_ him… He’s just a role model…

On Friday, Dean gets a call from Sam. Apparently his boss is throwing a Halloween party and family is invited. Remembering the one time he met Gabriel Milton, this could either be completely awesome, or full of suck. If Anna’s there, this could be even more awkward. And he probably won't be allowed to drink anything, either. He tells Sam he’ll think about it, and goes about his day. About 4:30, Cas shows up unexpectedly at the office.

“Hey, Cas, is everything alright?”

The guy coming by twice in one day? Something must have happened. Cas looks pensive, and he sits down without even saying hello.

“Dude, Cas?”

He finally looks up at Dean, as if he’s surprised to find himself here.

“Oh, hello Dean. My apologies, I’m a little preoccupied at the moment.”

Dean squats in front of Cas’ chair and looks up at him.

“What’s going on?”

Cas looks at him a moment and says, “I received a call from Gabriel today.”

Oookay, that could be any number of degrees of bad, considering Gabe’s a lawyer. And Sam’s boss.

“And?” This conversation is beginning to resemble pulling teeth.

“And, he invited me to a party.”

Dean snorts, and sits back on his butt, laughing. That’s what all this was about? Gabriel’s stupid Halloween party? He takes a deep breath and tries to respond to the hurt expression on Cas’ face.

“Dude, I’m sorry…” _chuckle_ “but, you gotta understand,” _sigh_ “The way you came in here, I thought someone had died or something.” He wipes moisture from his eye.

Cas looks at him like that could be arranged.

“You don’t understand. Gabriel and I haven’t spoken since…” An intense emotion crosses his face briefly, “For some time.”

“Alright, so what’s with the whole zombie act?”

“The answer is twofold.” Cas leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees. “First of all, it’s a public function. Do you realize I haven’t been anywhere more public than the ‘center’ I was in since I got discharged from the Army?”

“So, how long ago was that?”

“Over a year ago.”

With a half shrug, Dean dismisses that. After all, Cas is doing much better now.

“And second?”

Lips pursed, Cas looks down at his hands. “My family hasn’t had much to do with me since I joined the Army.”

“What?” Dean can’t even comprehend that. “Why?”

“My uncle, mostly. He always treated me as if I were a burden, and it was bad enough when I decided to become an EMT. When I joined the Army? He said I was a waste of potential.”

“Well, that was a douchey thing to do. So, what? Basically you got cast out of the family?”

Making a pained face, Cas looks to the side. “He was an investment banker, he held all the purse strings until after he passed two years ago. When I came back… the way I came back, they were kind enough to set up my trust to be usable, but…” He purses his lips. “The stigma was too great to associate with me I guess. Anna was the only one willing to look after me, but then again, she’s a nurse.”

Dean starts to reach for Cas’ knee, then realizes how that might come across, hyper aware of his actions around the man since the kiss. Instead, he fistbumps the guy’s shin.

“Hey, I’ve seen the way she looks after you, and that’s not just kindness there, Anna actually cares.”

There’s a small smile, before Cas gets back on track. “But why would Gabriel invite me to a party?”

“Uh, I think he’s just inviting everyone. Sam called me this morning, asking me to come.”

Surprised blue eyes lock on to his. “Are you going too?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Dean says with a shrug. “After all, parties are for drinking, and I’m kinda limited in my choices in that category.”

He’s been sitting on the floor for a while and realizes his butt’s going numb. Jeez, he’s getting old. With a groan, he stands up and goes to lock the door, realizing closing time came and went while they’ve been talking. When he turns back, the look on Cas’ face… he kind of looks like a lost puppy.

“I received the call just before leaving for my weekly therapy session. When I brought it up, Dr. Naomi said it would be a good experience as I could work on my social skills when societal norms will be loosened.”

 _Yeah_ , Dean thinks, _there’s a lot that gets loose at Halloween parties_.

“But do you want to go?”

Cas lowers his gaze. “I… there won’t really be anyone I know. And I’m not sure how Gabriel will react to my presence, even though he personally invited me.”

Leaning against the desk, Dean crosses his arms.

“How’s this? I’ll come with, we’ll even bring Meg if you want. And if anything, we can come home early if the thing turns out to be a drag.”

“But I thought you didn’t want to go.”

“Nah, if I have someone to talk to, it won’t be so bad, and we can scope out all the slutty versions of costumes the ladies will be wearing.” Dean waggles his eyebrows.

“Oh…” Cas’ brow furrows. “Will I need a costume as well?”

“It’s a Halloween party, Cas. What did you expect?”

“But I… don’t have a costume.”

Wide grin on his face, Dean thinks he’s gonna have fun helping Cas pick one out.

“We’ve got till Wednesday, buddy.”


	11. Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: "Don't consume alcohol while taking this medication", mild consent issues, mild gay panic

Trying to get Cas to decide on a costume is not fun. Cas comes over on Saturday, and they’re crowded around Dean’s computer screen. After declaring he isn’t ready for a Halloween store, they've been looking at costumes online. He’s turned down almost every idea Dean’s thrown at him, and he would have looked awesome as Superman, too. But he said he wouldn’t feel comfortable in tights. Dean’s idea of going as Batman is shot down as well, because of the Aurora shootings having been so recent. That would just be tacky. When Dean suggests Ironman, Cas looks at the available costumes and deems it too expensive to find a decent looking one. Cas suggests he go as Captain America, but Dean doesn’t feel like wearing tights if he’s not going to be Batman. They scroll past a detective outfit, and Dean pauses, an idea formulating in his head.

“Hey, Cas? You still have that trenchcoat?”

With a grin, Dean opens a new browser tab and searches for John Constantine.

“Dude, it would be the easiest costume ever, and you’d so rock the look.”

Cas scrutinizes the images in the search.

“But I don’t have blond hair.”

Dean clicks on an image of Keanu.

“So we’ll split the difference. I’m telling you, this is what to wear. It’s something you’ll be comfortable in, and you won’t have to buy anything.”

“Now we need to find you a costume, Dean.”

When he notices another costume after scrolling further down the page, Dean grins, thoughts percolating.

“Nah, I think I’ve got mine picked out, and I won’t have to spend a dime either.”

Sunday, Dean spends some time Skyping with Ben. With all the activities the boy squeezes into his days, they haven't had much time to do more than exchange emails or comment on Facebook. He asks if Ben is planning anything for Halloween, and the boy replies he’s too old for that. It’s for little kids. Heh, Dean remembers going through a phase like that himself, but then, high school girls. When he explains he’s going to a Halloween party for grown-ups, Ben seems only mildly interested, but when he describes his costume, Ben actually says that could be a little cool.

By the time Wednesday, October thirty-first rolls around, Dean’s been to Sam’s at least three times, trying on clothes. He closes up early, sets a bowl of candies by the office door, and quickly dresses before heading over to Cas’ place to help him get put together.

Cas answers the door in a white dress shirt, dark slacks, and an untied tie. His jaw drops when he sees Dean in his carefully chosen gangster outfit, having borrowed a pinstripe suit from Sam, to get the length right. He’s got a black shirt with a silver tie, and he even found a fedora that kind of matches. The shoes are a bit too large since they’re Sam’s as well, but he stuffed paper towels in the toes, and they’ve been polished to a high shine. He knows he looks good when he gets a wolf-whistle from Meg at the top of the stairs. She comes down wearing red hot pants and a halter top, little red and black demon wings strapped to her back, and devil horns on a headband. He appreciates all the extra skin that girls show during Halloween, but he wonders how they keep from freezing to death.

When Dean sees Cas fighting with his tie, he brushes the man’s hands aside and quickly ties a loose knot, unbuttoning the top button of Cas’ shirt, and lets the tie hang messy. He tries to completely ignore their proximity, and stands back to admire his work.

“You really need to look like you’ve slept in the shirt to get it just right, but it’ll do. Where’s the coat?”

“Up in my room, I’ll be right back.”

Cas stumbles on his way up the stairs, and Dean hopes he’ll be okay at the party. It takes him a while to come back down with the coat, but he seems a bit calmer now. Maybe the dude was just getting worked up over actually going to a party with lots of people around. The coat is draped over Cas’ arm, but Dean wants to see the full effect.

“C’mon, dude, put it on!”

As Cas is sliding his arms into the sleeves, Dean’s already manhandling, arranging the collar and adjusting the tie again. He reaches for Cas’ hair, but stops himself, then tells Cas to drag his fingers through it, to make it stand up a little bit. The resulting sex-hair, combined with the coat and suit, work perfectly for turning Cas into John Constantine. Something’s missing though…

“Hey, you have the suit jacket too?”

Nodding, Cas reaches to take off the trenchcoat and pull on the suit jacket. The comic version didn't wear both, but on Cas it just seems to work better. Hmmm, they could use just one more thing, and he can’t quite… Meg slinks by and hands Cas a pack of cigarettes. That’s it! Constantine smoked like a freight train!

“Dean?”

He looks up at Cas’ concerned expression, “Yeah?”

“I’m not going to have to smoke these, am I?”

With a chuckle, Dean takes the cigarettes from Cas’ hands and places them in a side pocket.

“No, they’re just for show.”

From upstairs, he hears Meg yell, “And you’re giving them back at the end of the night, too!”

While they wait on Meg to finish getting ready, Cas makes sandwiches, and Dean moans over the taste of the home baked bread.

“Oh, man. You made this yourself? Mmmm…”

Dean takes huge bite, closing his eyes while he chews.

“The only thing that could make this any better is a slice of pie.”

“I’m sorry Dean, if I’d known I could have baked—”

“Aww, Jeez, Cas! I didn’t mean it that way. This is really awesome though, thanks.”

Dean leans forward to avoid getting crumbs on his suit, and devours what’s left of the sandwich. When he’s finished, he takes his plate to the sink, and Cas tries to direct him to wipe something off of his face, but after a couple ineffectual swipes, Cas reaches up and runs his thumb across the side of his bottom lip. Their eyes lock, and they remain frozen for a brief moment, before Dean realizes and pulls away, clearing his throat.

After Meg is finally ready to go, they drive downtown in the Impala. The party is in the Guardian Angels law office, and when they get there, it’s already starting to fill up. All files have been locked away, with most of the office doors locked and computers shut down for security purposes. There’s punch and snacks in the conference room, and people are milling about, checking out each other’s costumes. Halloween themed songs like “Monster Mash” play from a stereo in the corner.

When Dean spots Sam, he has to do a double take. He’s wearing Travolta’s white suit from _Saturday Night Fever_ , his hair slicked back, and Jess is by his side in a red ruffly dress. Sam has always looked a little creepy in all white, and this is no exception. Ignoring the creep-factor, he gives the tall man a hug anyway. Pulling away, he thinks Jess looks absolutely stunning, and tells her so. You almost can’t tell she had a baby just over two months ago. He introduces Cas to Jess, and he watches as his friend awkwardly congratulates her childbirth.

Dean wanders around, Cas close to his side, and they find themselves at the back of the hall, where Gabe’s doors are thrown wide open. Inside, every horizontal surface is practically covered with candy, cakes, or other forms of sweet treats. There’s a portable bar off to one side, where the poor, underage intern Kevin is mixing drinks, dressed as Han Solo.

“Jimmy!” Gabe’s voice booms.

Cas’ eyes go wide, immediately nervous, as they see Gabe walk forward, arms spread out, dressed as Willy Wonka. The Gene Wilder one. He grasps Cas by the shoulders and looks him up and down, a big grin on his face.

“It’s been so long, couz. I thought I told you to wear a costume?”

Cas is at a complete loss for words, and flashes a quick look at Dean, who comes to the rescue.

“He’s John Constantine.”

Gabe’s attention switches to Dean, and practically leers as he looks him up and down.

“Is that one of Samsquatch’s suits? Are you making a statement about how lawyers are gangsters, or is it just a coincidence?”

Shrugging, Dean replies, “I needed it to be long enough to pull off the look, and Sam has enough of the damn things. Any social commentary is completely coincidental.”

With a smirk and a wink, Gabe says, “Either way, you’ll be surrounded by women tonight, hotshot.”

He turns to Cas, but keeps talking to Dean. “You mind if I borrow Jimmy here for a moment?”

Cas frowns, and Dean says, “His name is Cas. If you’d spent more time with him recently, you’d know that.”

Gabe’s head swivels to lock his gaze on Dean, and he can suddenly see the shark-like lawyer bubbling beneath the surface.

“Why do you think I invited him to this party? Look, I understand he’s had some… issues lately, and I just want to catch up with him, okay?” He turns to look at Cas, “You mind calling off the guard dog for a few?”

“It’ll be alright, Dean.” Cas looks up at him, before turning his gaze back to Gabriel. “If you don’t mind, I would like to speak somewhere…” he looks around the room, “less crowded.”

Gabe nods, and turns to Dean. “Hey, if you see my wife, tell her where I am so she doesn’t think I’m off screwing, will ya?”

With an incline of the head as acknowledgement, Dean asks, “What’s she dressed as?”

“Oh, trust me, you’ll know when you see her.” Gabe replies, eyebrows waggling.

Gabe wraps an arm around Cas’ shoulders, and they disappear into the crowd. Dean starts browsing the goodies, his eyes lighting up when he sees an assortment of mini-pies. He’s halfway through his third pecan pie when a woman effortlessly clears a path before her, dressed in the most elaborate Cleopatra costume he’s ever seen in person. He recognizes Kali instantly. Of course, she’d be dressed as a queen. She strides straight up to him, and even though she’s much shorter than him, manages to look him in the eye as if they were the same height.

“Dean Winchester, if I remember correctly?”

She’s completely rocking the regal attitude, and Dean quickly wipes the crumbs off his fingers before extending his hand, suppressing the urge to bow to her or something. Kali looks at his outstretched hand dubiously, and chooses to ignore it.

“Have you seen my husband?”

And here we go.

“Yeah, he’s with his cousin Cas, catching up. I can promise you, no hanky-panky is involved.”

She raises a painted eyebrow. “Yes. Well, when you see my husband, tell him I’m waiting. He’ll know what I mean.”

With that, she turns on her heel and strides away with that regal air, costume lightly tinkling as the people part before her. Wow, Dean thinks being married to a woman like that would kill him, she’s just too intense. After Kali is gone, Dean turns back to his pies, choosing pumpkin this time.

******

At the party, Castiel sticks close to Dean, more than a little intimidated at the number of people gathered in the office space. He catches a whiff of the cologne Dean is wearing, and swallows, because it makes him want to lean closer, and irrationally rub up against him like a cat. When he first opened the door and saw the man in his outfit, he was completely stunned. Dean dressed in a suit, fedora pulled down over his eyes, his square jaw with a light coat of stubble… Castiel leans away just enough so he can take a steadying breath without getting a lungful of Dean.

He gets goosebumps thinking about how he’d been manhandled, and how close the man was, tying his tie, adjusting his clothes. He’d come so close to feeling Dean’s fingers running through his hair, too. And then there had been that tiny bit of mustard on Dean’s lip. He’d tried to avoid touching, he really did, but the man kept missing it. Castiel smiles secretly, because Dean will never know that he’d sucked the mustard from his thumb, thinking of Dean’s lips as he did.

When Gabriel calls out to him using his old name, he freezes up. Luckily Dean is there to run interference. Gabriel keeps calling him Jimmy, but thankfully Dean corrects him. Castiel finally finds his voice when his cousin asks to speak with him, and he’s glad his request for privacy is accepted, because there’s just too much going on right now, and he feels like he’s going to explode.

As Gabriel steers them toward an empty office, he leans in and whispers, “Sorry about the name, bucko. Anna told me you were going by Castiel now, but I’m just so used to calling you Jimmy.”

“It’s alright, Gabriel, I understand.”

When Gabriel deposits Castiel in an office and turns on the lights, he asks, “Hey, you want some refreshment? I’m gonna get some punch, be right back.”

He’s gone for a brief moment, returning with a plate full of little cakes and cookies in one hand, two plastic cups in the other.

“Here, help me with this, before I drop them.”

Castiel reaches for the cups, and after Gabriel sets the plate down, popping one of the little cakes into his mouth, he hands his cousin one of them. Taking a sip, it’s an odd mix of fruit, with an underlying taste he can’t quite place. Nervousness has made him thirsty, so he quickly downs about half of it. Gabriel takes a small sip from his own cup before speaking.

“You’re looking really good, Jimm… I mean Cas. When they said you’d gotten a medical discharge, I’d thought you had been wounded or something. Then I heard you’d gone off the deep end, and I dunno, I expected you to _look_ crazy or something.”

Pursing his lips, Castiel responds, “From what I’ve been told, you should have seen me when I first came back to the States.”

“Look man, I’m really sorry that I haven’t been to see you, I guess I’ve just been too chicken to man-up and face the fact that I… that I let Dad control my life the way he did. But after he died, I dropped the big corporate firm, and I’ve been trying to make a real difference.”

A small smile forms on Castiel’s lips. “You seem to be really trying, Gabriel. Your mother would have been proud.”

Gabriel hides behind his cup, taking a sip of punch.

“You’ve also been helping with the Roman Enterprises problem, haven’t you?” Castiel asks.

“Oh, man. When I found out that Crowley’s team was working on it, I couldn’t help but jump in and help Sam with it. That law firm has screwed over too many people, and… well, let’s just say I get a perverse satisfaction watching them lose.”

They talk about various things, about what’s been going on with the family since Zachariah’s death, about Gabriel’s wife Kali, about how it’s the weirdest coincidence that Castiel and Anna ended up at the apartments that happen to be managed by Sam’s brother, and about Cas’ friendship with Dean. Gabriel seems to think there’s something more there, but he thankfully doesn’t push, and Castiel is grateful. While Gabriel is in the midst of telling Castiel about his latest prank involving an air horn and an office chair, an Asian boy, dressed as Han Solo, comes in and tells Gabriel that Kali has been looking for him, and is waiting for him. Gabriel’s entire face lights up, his chest puffs out, and he thanks the young man before turning to Castiel.

“Sorry, Cas, but my wife awaits, and she’s not one that tolerates waiting for long.”

Nodding, Castiel gathers their cups and the now empty plate, and they exit the office, which Gabriel locks. Gabriel turns to go, then swivels back, giving Castiel a big hug.

“We need to definitely keep in touch more couz. You need anything, and I mean _anything_ , don’t hesitate to call.”

Castiel nods again, and Gabriel eyes his empty cup.

“Go see Kevin at the bar, and ask for another cup of my jungle juice. You look like you could use some.”

With that, he quickly dashes off. Glancing at his cup, Castiel thinks he is a little thirsty, and it is quite warm in here, too. After getting a refill from Kevin, he goes in search of Dean. He finds him surrounded by a group of women, in various skimpy outfits. Thinking he should leave the man to enjoy their company, he starts to turn away only to have Dean call out and wave him over. He’s introduced to a woman named Chastity, dressed in a tiny blue dress with rainbow striped leggings and arm warmers. Chastity comes uncomfortably close to him, and asks him who he’s supposed to be.

“John Constantine.”

There’s not even a flicker of recognition in her eyes. “So who’s that?”

“An obscure comic book character, apparently.”

The woman’s perfume is strong, and he leans away from her.

“And what are you dressed as?”

She tilts her head and plays with his tie, making a little moue with her lips. “Rainbow Brite.”

“I guess that explains the colorful stripes then.”

While the woman giggles, Castiel looks over at Dean who grins widely and gives him a thumbs-up. He has a red-haired woman in a tight black jumpsuit on one arm, a blonde with a tiny approximation of a milkmaid outfit fluffed up with frills on the other. Apparently rainbow-girl is supposed to be for him? Unfortunately, he and Dean haven’t had the opportunity to discuss Castiel’s own sexuality, that he has no interest in random hookups with someone he’s just met; he’s uncomfortable, not knowing how to explain he has absolutely no interest in the woman now pressing herself as close to him as possible. Ugh, he’s going to have to wash the smell of her perfume out later. He nervously downs the odd tasting punch in a few gulps.

While the rainbow woman chatters endlessly about something, he wouldn’t know, he stopped paying attention a while ago, Castiel notices he’s beginning to get a little dizzy. He notices Dean watching him intently, and he boldly returns the gaze.

Eventually, Dean manages to extract himself from the women he’d been entertaining, and asks, “Hey dude, are you alright?”

Castiel blinks at Dean, processing the words, before replying, “I’m feeling a little dizzy. Perhaps I should find a place to rest.”

The rainbow-woman seizes the opportunity, saying she knows exactly where he can rest for a moment, and starts to lead him away. As he’s dragged across the room, he looks back to see Dean watching him go with an odd look on his face.

***

While Cas is gone with Gabe, Dean finds he’s not as into people-watching as normal. Maybe that’s because he can’t really drink, and he stops by the bar and asks Kevin Solo for a bottle of beer. He’s hoping he can at least loosen up a little, and sips his beer knowing if he’s going to drive home, he needs to stop at two. Sam and Jess wander back by, and he gets a disapproving scowl from his brother, but he promises he’ll stop at two beers, nothing else.  As Jess drags him away, Sam makes a gesture with two fingers, pointing at his own eyes and then at Dean. Dean salutes him with his beer bottle.

Deciding it’s time to fill up on more free food, Dean goes back to the table where he found the pies. Soon he’s surrounded by a gaggle of scantily clad ladies, all giggling and eyeing him like a piece of meat. Normally he’d enjoy the attention, but tonight for some reason, he’s just not feeling it. He’s just about to excuse himself when he sees Cas looking his way. He lifts his beer, waving him over, and introduces Cas to the one girl whose name he can remember, Chastity. As he watches the woman practically drape herself across his friend, he ponders the irony of the name.

He diverts his attention to the women who have apparently been talking to him, Miss Milkmaid and Black Widow. He’s trying to focus on the awesome amount of cleavage on display, but he finds himself glancing at his friend. When Cas meets his eyes, Dean gives him a big grin and a thumbs-up, encouraging him to socialize with the woman who is clearly interested in him. While he tries to act interested in the inane things the women are saying, he keeps an eye on Cas, watching him down whatever’s in his cup. When he sees his friend’s eyes glaze over and start to waver slightly, he knows the dude’s been drinking more than just punch. Eventually those glazed eyes lock on Dean, and he takes the opportunity to extract himself from the ladies to go check on Cas.

It takes the man a while to respond when he asks if he’s okay, and he’s a little worried at the enthusiasm of the woman clinging to him like a leech when she offers her assistance. But Cas doesn’t object, and Dean watches as she drags him away. Dude’s gonna get a blow-job out of this at least, and he should be happy that he’s helping his friend get laid. But there’s a tight feeling in his gut, heavy like a rock, and it grows as he sees Cas look back at him, eyes wide,  before disappearing around a corner.

 _It’ll be fine, do the guy some good_ , he tells himself, as he goes to the bathroom and washes his hands. _What if he doesn’t have a condom? Is he gonna be coherent enough to make sure he uses one?_ He splashes water on his face, trying to quell the uneasiness that has continued to build ever since he watched Cas walk away with Chastity. When he steps out of the bathroom, he tells himself he’s just going to walk around, stretch his legs. He’s definitely not trying to find where Cas got dragged off to.

 _Nope, just stretching my_ —

There’s an enraged female scream, followed by a loud slap, and a door burst open just a few feet away, Chastity stomping out and down the hall. Dean rushes over and looks in to see Cas, weaving on his feet and holding a hand to his cheek, a confused look on his face. His trenchcoat is half-off one shoulder, and his tie is crooked. He notices Dean and leans precariously in his direction.

“I don’t understand, I tried to tell her I wasn’t interested, but…”

Dean has to catch him as he leans over even further, almost ready to topple.

Cas whispers in his ear, “She _groped_ me, Dean. I was very uncomfortable.”

“Yeah buddy, luckily for you we’re already in a law office. Let’s get you home before any more bad-touching happens.”

He pulls Cas’ arm around his shoulders and steers him out of the office and towards the front door. He sees Meg making out with a muscled Viking, and kicks her in the shin on the way by. She whips her head around and snarls at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Interrupting your moment. Hey, party-boy’s had too much to drink, so we’re gonna split. You coming with, or wanna find another ride.”

Meg’s eyes widen and she glances quickly at Cas before scowling at Dean.

“He’s not supposed to drink while on his medication, you asshole!”

Oh. Shit.

“His cousin gave him something to drink, I’m not sure what or how much. Dammit, do we need to get him to a hospital?”

Meg looks into Cas’ eyes, peeling back his eyelids. Cas pulls his head away.

“I’ve only had two cups of odd-tasting punch, called Jungle Juice.”

Meg’s shoulders relax just a bit.

“I’ve tasted it, and it’s not that strong.”

She grabs Cas’ wrist, feels his pulse.

“How are you feeling?”

Cas’ brows scrunch in thought.

“I feel dizzy, uncomfortable.”

Meg rocks back on her heels, hands on her hips, and sighs.

“Well, it looks like he’s just had enough to get a good buzz going, but someone should keep an eye on him.”

She glances between Dean and Cas, and the viking-looking dude eyeballing her hungrily.

“Unless he starts having seizures or something, I think he’ll be okay. Would you mind if I…” Her head tilts toward her makeout partner.

“Sure, I’ll take care of him, you go get your freak on.”

Meg looks between him and Cas, then waggles her eyebrows. “I’m sure you will, loverboy. I’ll be back in the morning.” She turns her back and proceeds to pull the viking back into a messy kiss.

“C’mon, Cas. Let’s get you home.”

He lets the man lean into him, and helps him into the Impala. When Dean starts the car, Cas says, “Meg, she really does mean well. She has a… thorny beauty.” He enunciates carefully, as if it takes effort to speak.

Rolling his eyes, Dean replies, “Yeah, she’s a real peach.”

On the way home, Dean has to stop the car so Cas can throw up. Maybe it’s better if he gets some of that junk out of his system. He pulls into a 24-hour Walgreen’s and comes back to hand Cas a bottle of water.

“Here, use this to rinse your mouth, then drink up. Need to keep you hydrated.”

While he’s driving, Cas says, “And you, Dean. Such a lovely soul. So kind… It’s no wonder that I…”

Dean glances over to see a scowl on his face.

“You gonna be sick again buddy?”

“No.” Cas swallows, and his expression relaxes.

By the time they get back to the apartments, Cas has gone through about half the bottle of water, and he’s looking at Dean with a dreamy expression. Dean realizes that’s the same face Cas had when he kissed him, and tries to banish that thought. Gotta get Cas inside, then let him sleep this off.

Unfortunately, Dean hadn’t planned far enough to think about which apartment to take Cas to. Should he take Cas back to the townhouse, and camp out on the bedroom floor? That makes Dean slightly uncomfortable, and he decides that his own apartment is best, because he can leave the bedroom door open, and sleep on the couch. He manages to get the front door open and props Cas up on the couch while he goes to pull the covers down for him. Should he try to get him in pajamas? An image of undressing Cas flashes through his mind, and he quickly nixes that idea, trying his damndest to think of anything else except _that_.

After finding Cas a spare toothbrush to use, he drags they guy to the bathroom to do his business, and waits outside the door, listening in case he falls over. After hearing a flush, he opens the door and notices the toothpaste is open and squirted on the counter, but the toothbrush looks like Cas at least tried to use it, so he drags the guy to the bed. After some maneuvering, he gets Cas’ trenchcoat and jacket off of him, then lowers him onto the bed.

Dude’s been acting half-asleep, so he’s been able to avoid any kissy-face episodes. Although there were a couple of times Dean felt a little neck-nuzzling going on, which sent little electric trails running up and down his spine. He pulls away and then realizes there’s one more thing, he forgot the tie. As he pulls away, tie in hand, Cas catches his wrist.

“Dean.”

“Yeah, Cas?”

Looking down, he sees Cas’ eyes shining in the soft light.

“Can you… stay with me, just until I fall asleep?”

Dean swallows, he can do this. It’s just sitting here until the dude drifts off, then he’ll be on the couch.

“Sure thing, buddy. I got you.”

“Hmmm…” Cas closes his eyes and settles into the pillows.

While Dean sits there, not sure what to do, with Cas’ hand still clamped around his wrist, he hears a mumble from the guy, halfway asleep already.

“What was that?” he whispers.

“Hair?”

Dean blinks for a minute, until he realizes what Cas is getting at. The last time he helped him fall asleep, he’d been petting Cas’ hair. With a soft smile, he brushes the hair back from Cas’ forehead, and he gets a soft sigh in return. Soon, his breathing is soft and regular, and Dean sits there for a moment, feeling how soft Cas’ hair is, maybe indulging by playing with those little curls behind his ear.

Once he’s convinced the guy’s completely asleep, he carefully pulls away, and slides off the edge of the bed. He’s rummaging around for some sweats to sleep in when Cas makes a noise and rolls over. Pausing, he listens to Cas’ breathing.

The guys shifts again, and mumbles, “Dean.”

He edges closer to the bed and places a hand on Cas’ shoulder. His breathing quickly evens out again. Quickly, he goes to the bathroom to change out of the suit, then checks on Cas again. He’s frowning, his forehead creased deeply. Dean runs his fingers though the guy’s hair, to watch the expression melt away. Maybe he’ll just hang around a little longer, just to make sure he stays asleep.

\---

He wakes in the morning with a comfortable weight draped across him. Opening his eyes, he finds Cas has thrown off his covers and snuggled up during the night, an arm and leg wrapped around him, drooling onto Dean’s shoulder. He swallows, realizing he’s got morning wood pressing against the dude’s thigh.

 _Oh, shit_. He turns to look at Cas in horror, and watches his peaceful face breathing softly into his shirt, a wet patch of drool soaking through the fabric below his mouth. As if he can detect Dean tensing, he wiggles just a bit, and that thigh presses even tighter up against Dean's crotch, and he has to bite back a squeak as the action sends jolts of pleasure, making the damn thing twitch.

 _Shit, damn, hell_ … He reaches down and pushes Cas’ knee away to relieve the pressure. _This is so not happening right now_ , he tells his dick, especially with Cas laying in his bed. At that thought, his dick gives another twitch, and he can’t believe this is happening. He is _not_ thinking of Cas in that way, and he is _not_ getting excited about Cas _in his damn bed_. This is NOT happening.

Dean closes his eyes, and focuses on breathing. He slowly peels Cas’ arm off and curls it up against the guy’s chest. Then he pushes Cas’ leg off and scoots to the edge of the bed. Carefully, he reaches for the floor and quietly rolls off. Once on the floor, he takes a moment to breathe, gathering his wits. Using every stealth technique he knows, Dean pushes up and slinks out the bedroom door, pulling it closed behind him.

Once he’s in the bathroom and that door is closed as well, and locked, Dean lets out a huge breath. Holy hell, what the fuck was that? Pressing his palms to his eyes, he tries to will Little Dean to calm the fuck down, because there won’t even be palm action while Cas is in his goddamn room. At the thought of Cas in his bed, the offending party gives another little twitch. Goddammit, it’s getting more and more difficult to deny he likes Cas as more than just a friend. When the hell did this happen?

 _When Cas kissed you_.

 _Shit_. He’s been trying to put that past him, but when he sees the guy he remembers the feel of those lips on his. Tonight at the party, with Cas leaning on him, he remembered the smell in Cas’ bathroom, and realized what smelled so good was Cas, because the smell was in Cas’ hair, on his clothes, even Chastity’s perfume couldn’t drown it out. God, Chastity. He’d actually felt jealous, watching her walk away with Cas. Every feeling for Cas he’s been repressing starts flooding to the surface, and he starts to hyperventilate. Because, regardless of the gay… bi… whatever, HE CAN’T BE WITH CAS.

Cas is… Hell, Dean doesn’t want to say broken, more like… compromised. Cas only kissed him that one time because his meds crossed some wires. He could never trust that Cas actually liked him because he LIKED him and not because his brain chemistry is getting screwed with.

GODDAMMIT!

He pulls on his hair, curled in on himself. _Get a grip, Winchester. Get your shit together and act like everything is fucking normal. You should be used to it by now, you’ve been doing it since you were four. Push it all the fuck down, way down, bury it and forget it. Besides, you know how conservative South Dakota is, there’ll be a lynch mob if they even got a whiff of gay from you._  

Squaring his chin, he flexes his fingers, lowers his hands, and stands, shoulders back, spine straight. _Be the goddamn soldier you were fucking raised to be, and keep your shit straight._ Looking at himself in the mirror, he sees the wet spot from where Cas drooled on him. _You’re going to take a shower, and go out there and make some coffee. And breakfast. When Cas gets up, you’re going to be a friend and help him with the inevitable hangover he’s going to have. Then you’re going to send him home, to his own fucking apartment, because he’s a_ FUCKING TENANT, _and what’s the rules about tenants_? YOU DON’T FUCK THEM. Well, okay, he already screwed up that rule with Anna. Oh, Jesus, now he’s a creepy fucker, wanting to complete the damn set.

He curls his lip at himself in the mirror and pulls the shirt over his head. Quickly, he undresses and gets into the shower, turning it as hot as he can stand it, and scrubs all trace of Cas from himself. Pink and steaming when he exits the shower, he towels off and pulls on the robe that hangs on the hook behind the door. When he sneaks into his room for fresh underwear and work clothes, he avoids looking at the man who has curled up into the spot that Dean vacated.

After slinking back into the bathroom to get dressed, he heads into the kitchen and starts a pot of coffee. Once he’s got a cup of brew in hand, he gets out bacon, and eggs, and pancake mix. By the time the bacon’s finished and he’s just starting on the pancakes, he hears Cas stumble to the bathroom. He’s got a good stack going when Cas zombie-marches into the kitchen and helps himself to the coffeepot. He only glances at the messy bed-hair Cas is sporting, and only makes a cursory note that the shirt he’s wearing finally looks slept-in.

When Cas settles down at the table, Dean sets a plate in front of him, with pancakes, bacon, and eggs, and sets a bottle of Ibuprofen down next to a glass of orange juice. Cas gives him a grateful look, and Dean just nods, turning away to start his own pancakes. Once their breakfast is finished, eaten in relative silence, Dean leaves Cas seated at the table to linger over his coffee and get his shit together. He knows hangovers require quiet and time to make the skull pounding stop.

Cas watches him as he loads the dishwasher with the morning’s cookware and plates. He can feel that laser focus boring into him with every movement, and he studiously avoids looking back. _You can do this, he’s your friend, and to do or expect any more is wrong. Accept what you have and be grateful he doesn’t know how you feel. Because you’d just screw him up worse_. There’s a sigh behind him as he starts the dishwasher, and he can’t avoid looking at the man seated at his table any more. With a crooked smile, Dean turns to see that Cas already looks better.

“Thank you, Dean. Once again, you’ve helped me when I needed it.” He stares into the dregs of coffee in his cup. “And I’m sorry for always needing you to help me out of such situations.”

Dean huffs a laugh. “Dude, you’ve helped me out more than once before, too. And besides, that’s what a friend does, he helps you when you’re in a jam. We don’t keep score of that shit.”

Cas gives him a warm smile, then glances at the clock on the wall. His smile is quickly replaced with a frown.

“Dean, I’ve made you late for work.”

Shrugging, Dean turns to look at the clock himself. He’s only half an hour late.

“That’s the great thing about living where you work. I can just pop right over.”

Still frowning, Cas stands up and takes his coffee cup to the sink.

“I’ll gather my things and head home so you can go.”

After Cas has put on his jacket and coat, pulled on his shoes, and combed his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame the wild locks that only rearrange into a new messy configuration, they exit the apartment and Dean locks up behind them. Cas waves before heading home, and Dean feels a pang in his chest as he sees the man walk out of sight. But he pushes that down too, and goes to work.

******

When Castiel wakes, he tries to bury his head under a pillow, in an effort to escape the light. This is how he realizes he’s not in his own bed. Not only does it feel different, but it smells different as well. The pillow and bed underneath are squishy memory-foam, and everything smells like Dean. Slowly, he filters through the events of the night before. They went to a party, hosted by Gabriel. He and his cousin made amends, and he drank an odd tasting punch. There was a woman with really strong perfume, who slapped him. He remembers throwing up, and hopes it wasn’t on Dean. Dean put him to bed. He’s in Dean’s bed. There’s a vague memory of curling up against Dean in the middle of the night, but the rest of the bed is empty, so it’s possible that was just a dream.

 _He’s in Dean’s bed_.

Castiel stretches out, eyes screwed up against the morning light, and grazes his hands across the covers. Dean sleeps here. Wait, where is Dean? Taking a deep breath, he can smell the aroma of coffee. Oh. He probably slept on the couch and is now making breakfast before work. After another nuzzle of the pillow, _Dean rests his head here at night,_ Castiel slowly manages to sit up, and then gets himself mostly upright before shuffling to the bathroom.

Bladder drained and face washed, he makes his way into the kitchen, following the scents of coffee and bacon. And pancakes? His stomach gives a roll that’s half hunger and half nausea, as he trudges to the coffeepot where a mug is waiting to be filled. As soon as he settles into a chair, Dean sets a plate full of food before him, as well as something for his headache. He eats slowly, and soon Dean joins him.

A comfortable silence settles over them, and Castiel is grateful that Dean remains quiet while he recovers from his hangover. He should have realized Gabriel would give him a spiked drink. Two spiked drinks. And Dean had to leave the party early because of him. When they’re both finished eating, Dean collects the dishes and starts the dishwasher.

Castiel allows himself a moment’s fantasy as he watches the man be so domestic, and imagines what it would be like to wake up every day with him. But that’s all it will ever be, just a fantasy. At least he didn’t kiss him this time. If that had happened again, surely Dean wouldn’t be acting so… normal. He sighs, and that makes the man look up at him, with one of those adorable crooked smiles on his face.

He both thanks and apologizes to him, but is quickly rebuffed, told that friends don’t keep score. Friend. The word is bittersweet, and he’s glad he notices the time, so he has an excuse to frown. Dean’s late for work. After quickly gathering his things, they exit the apartment, and Castiel knows it’s time for his domestic fantasy to end. He doesn’t prolong it, just waves and walks to his own apartment. He hopes Meg isn’t back yet. The ribbing the woman gives him, just the fact she knows he has feelings for Dean, it’s not something he can take right now. 


	12. Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: brief war flashback

November is overcast and wet, with the occasional snow flurry. Move-outs and rentals slow the colder it gets, and there’s less for Benny to do as the grass doesn't need cutting, and the trees finish shedding their leaves. He’s only been working part-time anyway, but he decides to get a second job at a diner, something to occupy him on weekends and evenings.

Even the harassment from Roman Enterprises slacks off some, and everyone enjoys the reprieve from constant crap cropping up.

While Dean doesn’t get to see Benny as often, he and Cas start hanging out more. The guy found one of those books about strange facts, and he seems to take great pleasure in telling people about the weird shit he finds in there. For instance, once while Dean was eating lunch, Cas pulled out this little gem: A housefly regurgitates after eating and then eats it again. It took Dean a full minute before he could continue eating.

Of course, Dean keeps his strict friend rule in place, and he makes sure they never spend too much time together all at once. Although there was the time Cas really wanted to go to a movie and didn’t want to go alone. He swore the movie was about friendship, and after almost a whole week, Dean relented. They went to see _Wreck It Ralph_. When he saw the poster and realized they were going to see a cartoon, he seriously considered getting back into the Impala and leaving Cas behind at the theater. Instead, he made Cas pay for the extra large popcorn with extra butter, and hot dogs, and nachos. No one will ever know he actually enjoyed the movie, and he swore Cas to secrecy.

Overnight between the eleventh and twelfth, they get some light snow, so Dean spends the morning salting the sidewalks. Cas helps him load the hopper since his left arm’s been twitchy lately, and on their way back to the office after they finish, Charlie gets out of her car. Squealing, she runs over and hugs Dean, then turns to Cas. Dean knows the woman is a lot to take all at once, but the poor guy just freezes, looking at her wide-eyed.

“Cas, this is Charlie.”

After a nudge from Dean, Cas opens his mouth and the first thing that comes out is, “Did you know that a cat's penis is sharply barbed along its shaft?”

Dean just blinks dumbly at him, because he thinks that’s the most inappropriate thing he’s ever heard come out of the guy’s mouth.

Charlie looks at him for a moment, then says in a low monotone, “Mameshibaaaaa…” A grin slowly spreads on her face, and then she says, “Hey, did you know a koala’s appendix is about two meters long?”

Honestly, Dean thinks he’s been shipped straight to the freaking twilight zone. When Charlie sees the look on his face, she can’t help but break out into peals of laughter.

“What? I went through a Magical Girl phase.”

He’s still confused, but Cas’ face lights up and he invites Charlie to the office for hot tea or cocoa. They chatter at each other along the way, leaving Dean to tag along behind. What the hell just happened? Apparently Mameshiba is some weird Japanese thing that involves factoids, and Cas has never heard of it, but is fascinated with the idea. He feels like a third wheel as Charlie tells Cas about her favorite TV shows, and who she “ships” —whatever that means— and Cas just soaks it all up, stopping her to ask the occasional question. Since he started  hanging around Dean more, he’s been exposed to some of the same things Charlie’s into, but the woman is so enthusiastic, she gets Cas swept up in it. After a while, Cas looks at the clock, startled at how much time has passed. He glances between Charlie and Dean, a weird smile on his face. He stands up and says he needs to go.

“I shouldn’t be taking up your time, I’ll leave you two alone.”

Cas quickly leaves, and Charlie turns to Dean.

“Was it something I said?”

Dean chuckles. “You probably gave him information overload, but I think he likes you. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him take to someone so quickly, since he moved in.” He takes their mugs and places them in the office sink. “If you don’t mind, I think he’s found a new friend.”

Charlie leans back in her chair. “Oh, he’s just like a blank canvas. I’ll have so much fun teaching him about fandoms. Do you think he’d enjoy cosplay?”

Thinking about the costume ordeal at Halloween, he shakes his head.

She pouts and changes the subject. “Remember those Supernatural books?”

He rolls his eyes. “How can I forget? Fans tagged the place with symbols from them.”

“Anyway, Carver Edlund released the most recent book, and I was skimming back through the early ones. Did you know the protagonists are brothers that drive cross-country, hunting monsters?”

Uninterested, he responds, “So?”

“Their names are Saul and Dan Remington.”

“And?”

She’s looking at him intently when she reveals this next bit, “The younger brother is taller than the older one, and went to Stanford, pre-law.”

This gets his attention, and he leans forward.

“What?”

“I found all sorts of interesting parallels, but with, like, slight changes. For instance, the older brother drives a classic Mustang, given to him by his father.”

 _What the hell_? A shiver runs down Dean’s spine.

She seems hesitant, asking, “I, umm… Dean, you mentioned your dad passed away? When was it?”

“July 2006.”

Eyes wide, Charlie covers her mouth. “Holy shit,” he hears her mutter.

Frustrated, he asks what the hell is going on.

“Dean, I think someone’s been writing an AU about your life.”

He looks at her like she’s crazy. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Okay, the parallels get less reliable the further in the series you go, obviously there aren’t demons and monsters, and you and Sam don’t go around killing them, right?”

He gives her a silent “Duh”.

“But, there are certain things that line up too creepily.” She pauses, but Dean rolls his hand in a gesture for her to continue. “So, you were in the military, right? And got injured?” He nods. “Back in 2008?”

“Get to the point, Charlie.”

“In the books, Dan died and went to Hell. An angel saved him. In 2008.”

Alright, this is just all kinds of weird. Suddenly, he remembers a blue shield with red wings, and it finally clicks where he’s seen it before. He’s quiet for so long that Charlie waves a hand in his face.

In a low voice he asks, “What’s the angel’s name, Charlie?”

“Kafziel.”

He must have zoned out for a moment, because Charlie is calling his name.

“Charlie, I need those books. And I want to know who the author is. Where he lives. How he knows all this shit…”

“Dean, calm down. I already did some research, and all I’ve found out so far is he does appear to live in Sioux Falls. But now that I know he’s local, I just gotta catch him logging on to his website.”

Charlie promises to download the books for him, and says she’ll bring them by later.

Distractedly, Dean says, “Yeah, thanks Charlie. I’ll talk to you later.”

Thankfully, the rest of the day is quiet, and although he wants to call Sam, he thinks it’s best to look at the books himself before getting his brother involved with this. He locks up a little early, and heads home in a daze. Once inside, he collapses on the couch, staring into space until his doorbell rings. Thinking it’s Charlie, he opens the door to find Cas standing there with a stack of DVDs in his hands. Shit, he forgot they were supposed watch movies.

“Hey, uh.. come in.”

Cas looks at him with his curious head-tilt, which lets Dean know he’s noticed his behavior’s different from normal.

“Sorry man, I kind of forgot. But it doesn’t take long to get a pizza delivered.”

“It’s alright.” Cas puts the DVDs on the coffee table then watches patiently as he puts in an order for pizza. As soon as Dean’s off the phone, Cas asks, “Is something wrong, Dean?”

Well, yeah, someone’s turning his life into a series of monster novels, and that person figured out before he did who pulled him from the fire.

“Um, Cas? There’s something I need to ask you…”

Just then, the doorbell rings again. He knows it’s too early for pizza, and it’s Charlie this time when he opens the door.

“Hi!” She gives a little wave and steps inside.

Cas looks confused, and Charlie turns back to Dean.

“Oh, I’m sorry, if I’d realized you already had a thing, this could have waited.”

“No, Charlie. The sooner I get it over with, the better.”

“Should I go?” Cas asks.

Dean looks at Cas to see an expression that he’s come to mentally dub the “processing face”, and it’s the one he gets when he’s trying to figure something out internally.

“Nah, she’s just dropping something off.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a hot date tonight,” says Charlie, waggling her eyebrows.

“How hot we talkin’?” Dean breaks into a leering grin.

“Oh, let’s just say she’s got ‘great tracts of land’!” She giggles, and it makes Dean chuckle.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you, so where are the books?”

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small tablet.

“I had a Kindle just laying around, so I loaded them on it for easy reading.”

He blinks at her for a moment, and then she shows him how to use the damn thing.

“Anyway, I better skedaddle. Enjoy your evening, boys!”

Dean walks her to the door and he calls out as she walks away, “Have fun storming the castle!”

The pizza delivery guy pulls in right then, so he quickly goes for his wallet. Pizza in hand, he closes the door and turns to Cas, who has taken a seat at some point and is staring blankly into space. Whoa. What broke his buddy?

“Cas? Hey Cas, are you alright?”

The guy snaps out of it, and turns to Dean with a creased brow.

“Dean, I believe I have made some false assumptions.”

“Like what?”

He pauses and looks at his hands before glancing back up.

“I take it you and Charlie aren’t dating?”

With a snort, Dean thinks he must be joking, but Cas looks entirely serious.

“What the hell gave you that idea?”

Cas tells him about seeing Charlie enter his apartment enthusiastically one day when Dean was still recuperating.

“Dude, that’s just Charlie. Expect to be on the receiving end of some flying tackle hugs, now that she knows you too.”

Cas’ Processing Face makes another appearance, and Dean tries to head things off at the pass.  

“And before you have to ask, Charlie’s a lesbian, and she’s going on a date with a woman who apparently has a great rack.”

Dean sees Cas start to laugh quietly, his shoulders shaking, a hand pressed to his face. The guy shakes his head and sighs, the laughing fit over.

“I have been thinking this entire time that you had a girlfriend, Dean.”

A grin on his face, Dean shakes his head at Cas.

“Well, now you know I’m just as single as you. Wait, you thought I was in a relationship with someone, but I’ve been spending most of my free time with you.”

Dean realizes how that came out, and swallows.

Cas looks down into his lap. “From what you’ve told me, I had been led to believe most of your relationships were… casual. I didn’t know quite what to expect.”

Dean shrugs and stands up. There’s a squirmy knot in his stomach, the result of Cas’ reaction to finding out Dean’s so very available. But he can’t give Cas the wrong idea. Gotta act normal.

“C’mon, pick a movie while I get us plates and something to drink. Pizza’s gonna get cold.”

During the movie, he can’t help but notice Cas’ whole atmosphere has changed. He seems more relaxed, and Dean decides to put off asking about his earlier revelation involving Cas’ tattoo. He also catches Cas glancing at him more frequently, and he wonders what that’s all about. No, Cas can’t be looking at him like he’s interested. Maybe the guy’s still getting over his earlier mistaken assumption about him and Charlie dating. Dean tries to not think much harder about what this might mean, completely shutting down a train of thought involving Cas and his interest in Dean being single.

After the movie, he remembers he’s got a stack of books to read on that Kindle-thingie Charlie gave him. Cas seems interested in knowing what kind of books he’s planning to read, but Dean deflects, not wanting to share with Cas that particular bombshell yet. After he manages to get Cas out the door, Dean gets comfortable and settles on the couch to read.

******

Castiel walks home from Dean’s in a daze. Dean isn’t in a relationship with the redhead woman. That redhead is Charlie. Suddenly, so many conversations he’s had with Dean make so much more sense. He’d assumed, until today, that the Charlie Dean had spoken about was a man. He lets out a breath into the bitterly cold air, watching the steam it produces. Barely feeling the cold, he reaches home and goes inside. Meg’s on the couch watching TV, a bowl of popcorn in her lap.

“Hey, loverboy. You enjoy your date?”

Irritated, he replies, “It wasn’t a date.”

And isn’t that the crux of the matter? He and Dean are close, but only as friends. No matter what Castiel feels for the man, that’s won’t ever change. _But Dean is single_. No, he needs to let that go. The last thing he needs is to start assuming more things about the man, getting his hopes up, only to be turned down. After removing his coat, he settles on the couch next to Meg.

“I’m in love with my best friend.”

She looks at him sideways, “Yeah, I got that. How is this such a revelation?”

“Because I had been working on the assumption he’s been in a relationship with someone.”

Meg decides what’s happening with Cas is much more important than what’s happening on TV, so she mutes it and turns to him.

“Details, now.”

So he tells her about Charlie, and his earlier assumptions, and that Dean’s never shown any interest in men, and… and…

Meg just gives him a look and says, “So why don’t you say something to him?”

It’s his turn to give her a look.  “But the way he reacted to the kiss…”

“Clarence… look. You say he’s never shown any kind of interest in men before, right?”

He nods.

“Well, how do you think someone who was completely uninterested in _you_ would act if you kissed them?”

Castiel rolls his eyes, “We’ve already discussed Dean’s reaction—”

“But!” Meg sticks a finger in his face, “You guys made up later, right?”

He slumps in his seat. “He thinks it was just a reaction to the medication.”

“Listen up. I’m only going to say this once, and this shit isn’t even really my job, but you’re so pitiful. If I wasn’t into someone, and they kissed me, even if it was because they were drunk or having a reaction to medication or whatever, I would always be a little wary of them after that. I would _definitely_ not let them in my bed to sleep off a bender. Or cook them breakfast after.”

Castiel processes this, and her logic seems sound. But what if she’s wrong? He could lose Dean’s friendship, and he’d rather have that than nothing. He tells her so.

She shrugs, and un-mutes the show she’s watching. “Up to you then, but I’ve thrown in my two cents.”

He smiles, and places a hand on her shoulder. She looks down at it and up at his face.

“Thank you, Meg. Would you mind if I considered you a friend?”

Pursing her lips and turning back to the TV, she says, “I don’t consider my work as friends.”

With a nod, he gets up off the couch and offers to refresh her drink.

“While you’re in there, make me a sandwich.”

***

As the days pass, Dean continues to read the Supernatural books. They’re not written very well, and reading the parts that could actually be based on him, it’s more than a little creepy. Whoever the hell this Carver Edlund guy is has a lot of explaining to do. Charlie’s confirmed it’s a pseudonym, but she’s still trying to trace the guy’s location.

He eventually tells Sam about the books, and the guy nearly flips his lid when he tells him just how close some of the stories get to the truth. Even Bobby’s in there, although his name’s Bubba in the books. They decide to not tell him about that part. Sam insists on reading them, and Dean tells him he’ll ask Charlie.

What’s frustrating about the books is while there’s so much the guy gets right, he gets so much wrong. He writes Dan and Saul as extremely codependent, to the point of dysfunction. He and Sam would end up killing each other if they had to spend that much time together. It pisses him off when Saul gets killed, only to have Dan make a deal with a demon to get him back. What the hell? These guys should know better. After he reads about Dan’s death, he’s apprehensive about starting the next one. It’s supposed to be about his resurrection and if the guy gets even a fraction right about what it was like for him, he might get a little sick.

Thanksgiving is coming up so Dean uses it as an excuse to stop reading those damn books and research some new recipes. They always have Thanksgiving dinner at Bobby’s, and Sheriff Mills just might be there this year. He’s watched them moon over each other long enough, they need to start actually dating. Looking up ideas online, Dean ponders if he should try deep-frying a turkey this year. Ooh, or he could smoke one.

The Wednesday before Thanksgiving, Dean takes a half day and hauls all the stuff he’s going to use to make dinner to Bobby’s. The turkey’s thawed, and he’s going to try brining this year, thanks to a recipe from Alton Brown. He’s going to make three different pies: pumpkin, apple-cranberry, and chocolate silk. Mmmm… Pie. He hopes he gets to take most of the pie home when they’re done. He checks his list, making sure he’s got the fixings for everything. Sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, roasted potatoes, cranberry sauce, stuffing… As far as he can tell, they seem to have everything. Cas offered to make rolls, and Dean’s not going to turn down fresh bread. Especially Cas’, it always tastes so freaking awesome.

Thanksgiving, Dean stops by Cas’ early to pick up the rolls before going to Bobby’s and getting the turkey started. When Cas opens the door, Dean goes a little speechless. the guy has a suit on, and it fits him well. He’s freshly shaven, and his hair seems a little damp from a shower still, brushed back from his forehead. Cas’ eyes crinkle with that little smile Dean’s used to seeing by now, and he lets Dean inside. The apartment smells awesome, the scent of baking bread making him salivate.

“I’m sorry Dean, the rolls aren’t ready yet. Give me a few more minutes?”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.”

He looks around the apartment, wondering where the annoying nurse is. When he asks, apparently Meg has family of her own, and she’s spending time with them. Cas holds up two ties, one a dark red and the other bright blue like his eyes.  He asks which one he should wear. No contest, Dean picks the bright blue one. Cas ties it all crooked, and Dean insists on fixing it himself.

“How could you grow up never learning how to tie a tie?”

He’s very aware of how close to Cas he is, and he gets a good whiff of him while flipping up his collar and lining up the tie. The guy smells clean and warm, his natural scent filling Dean’s senses, and he has to focus on the tie, blocking out everything else. Once the knot is all centered and neat, he smoothes down Cas’ collar, fingers lingering on the crisp white shirt. He looks up, and damn, this tie just makes his eyes even bluer. Cas licks his lips, and Dean’s eyes focus on those, wide and pink, slightly chapped looking. He’s still holding on to Cas’ tie, and it would take nothing just to pull him a couple inches closer…

A buzzing noise makes them both jump.

“Oh,” Cas steps back and dashes to the kitchen. “Rolls are ready.”

Dean has to take a deep breath to clear his head. He’d almost kissed Cas. If the timer hadn’t gone off… Hands balling into fists, he closes his eyes. _You are not going to screw this up, Winchester. Get a grip_. After a moment, he walks through the archway of the dining room and sits down in one of the chairs. Cas is transferring rolls from the baking pan to a towel lined basket, with his bare hands. He waves them to cool his fingers occasionally. Dean takes the opportunity to just watch.

When Cas finishes filling one basket to near overflowing, he folds the ends of the towel over the pile and turns to Dean. The guy’s face is flushed from the heat of the oven, and he’s smiling, looking right at him. He suddenly finds his pants are a trifle uncomfortable, and shifts in his seat, bringing an arm around the front to hide any indication that he’s just popped a little bit of a boner watching Cas be domestic.

 _I’m going to hell, just like the character in those shitty books. Except there won’t be an angel to pull me out_.

He stands up, pulling at the legs of his jeans, hoping he can get some extra room going on without being obvious. Cas just hands him the basket, and says he hopes everyone enjoys them. At least he has something to hide his crotch now. Mumbling about having to head to Bobby’s, Dean makes his way out of the apartment without embarrassing himself any further. Jesus Christ on a tortilla, he’s going to have an aneurysm over this, he just knows it.

Thanksgiving goes fine, Jody brings  some glazed carrots, and Sam brings beer and wine. The turkey is awesome, little Thomas is adorable, Bobby and Jody make eyes at each other during dinner, and they get ribbed by the boys. Everyone loves Cas’ rolls, and there aren’t any left over, much to Dean’s chagrin. At least there’s pie. Jody gets called in to deal with an accident, Sam and Jess head home early because of Thomas, and Bobby naps in front of the TV. Okay, maybe Dean does too for a little bit, but he had eaten a lot. After deciding that driving home would take too much effort, Dean crashes out in one of Bobby’s spare rooms.

\---

He’s back in that burning transport vehicle, and he can feel the heat, smell the smoke. There’s a dead man next to him, and he’s slowly suffocating. Then there’s a blinding light, and hands reaching in, grabbing his arm. There’s a figure before him, and wings spread out from the shoulders, massive and blocking out the light, casting shadows. As the figure comes closer, the wings fold up and he can see blue eyes. A deep, gravelly voice, Cas’, calls out to him: “Do not be afraid. You will be saved.” Cas comes closer, and presses his lips to Dean’s. All the pain vanishes, and he feels like he’s floating.

Dean wakes up, early sunlight filtering through the old, faded curtains. He stretches out on the lumpy mattress, and looks down at his morning wood hidden by old quilts. Unable to deny this was caused by the dream he just had about Cas, he sits up, determined to not rub one out in Bobby’s house. Eyeing his dick dubiously, he thinks at it, _You better lay down there, buddy. My bladder’s full and this is gonna be awkward with you at attention like this_. By the time he navigates the freezing wood floor on the way to the bathroom, it’s not an issue any more. Libido frozen into submission and his bladder taken care of, he heads downstairs for coffee and pie for breakfast.

When Bobby gets up, he grumbles about the lack of real breakfast as he watches Dean scrape a fork around in an almost empty pie tin. Dean shoots back that they cooked enough yesterday, and he can have leftovers. His breakfast pie finished, Dean packs up as much of the leftovers as he can, and even then Bobby complains that he’s leaving behind too much. When he snarks back that Jody can help him eat them, he enjoys watching Bobby’s face get red as the man blusters him out the door.

Back at home, Dean packs away all the food he brought back, and at the bottom he finds the basket that Cas used for the rolls. He sniffs the towel, the smell of yeasty bread still clinging to it. With a smile, he thinks about going to see Cas, but tells himself he doesn’t need to go over right away. At noon, he finds himself on Cas’ doorstep, ringing his doorbell.

Cas opens the door wearing an old, stretched out, holey t-shirt and a pair of Army sweatpants. His hair is back in its normal untameable state, and Dean has to clear his throat before speaking.

“Hey, I brought back that basket you put the rolls in.”

“Oh.” Cas looks down at himself, “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company… I’ve been cleaning. Would you like to come in?”

When Cas makes room for Dean to enter, he tries to not act too eager. _Going to Hell, going to Hell_ … he thinks at himself, because that kiss from this morning’s dream is trying to creep into his thoughts.

“I would have brought you pie, but I didn’t know if they might have sent you home with leftovers.”

Cas gives him a half smile, “Yeah, they loaded me up with enough to eat for a week. But I would love to taste your pie.”

Dean nearly swallows his tongue. That wasn't supposed to sound as suggestive as it seemed, was it? Cas sucks at innuendo. He clears his throat, again.

“Uhh.. yeah, I’ll bring some by later. All the chocolate silk’s gone but I’ve got pumpkin and apple-cranberry.”

Cas says he’d like to try the apple-cranberry one, and Dean suggests a food exchange. After all, with the money the Milton family has, their spread had to be better than what Dean’s little family prepared. Since Meg’s still visiting family, Cas suggests they have dinner here, maybe watch some television. With a plan in place, Dean leaves him to finish his cleaning, and on the way home, he can’t help feeling like this is a date. Maybe it’s because he normally doesn’t go to Cas’ because of Meg.

A little after six, Dean shows back up, freshly showered and in one of his nicer button-ups and his cleanest jeans. He doesn’t want to look like he’s trying, but… whatever. Cas opens the door dressed in a light blue sweater and comfy slacks. It’s his usual, since he started wearing normal clothes. Dean has a half-pie in one hand, and a grocery bag full of reheatable containers holding all the best things he had leftover from dinner at Bobby’s. Taking the pie, Cas leads him into the kitchen. After heating up everything, they settle at the table.

Cas’ turkey is surprisingly dry compared to his, and the stuffing has something weird in it. When he asks, he’s told it’s cornbread and kale. Kale? Isn’t that a kind of seaweed or something? There’s a parsnip and mushroom soup that’s okay, and then there’s roasted squash, except it’s a whole bunch of different kinds, and he can’t identify all of them.

He listens to Cas moan through everything that Dean brought, and he’s very glad there’s a table between them, because Cas and food together already do things to him, and this is getting close to porn. He’s already cleared his throat enough in the past while that Cas asks him if he’s getting a cold, and would he like some peppermint tea?  Then comes dessert. Cas has some ice cream in the freezer, and they heat up the pie. They both moan, and even Cas blushes a little.

While they clear the table and put everything away, Dean asks Cas about how his family visit went. It seemed to go well, but then it was just Gabriel, Kali, and Anna. Cas explains his eldest cousin, Michael, is on the east coast and Luc, the second youngest, passed away a few years ago. Dean lets him talk, because he doesn’t want to explain that Anna already told him about their family. They ate at Gabriel’s, and the meal had been pre-ordered through some fancy restaurant. That explains all the weird ingredients, but it doesn’t excuse the dry turkey. Not wanting to drag up any bad memories, Dean doesn’t say or ask much about Cas’ family. He does briefly mention his own dinner, talking about how Bobby and Sheriff Mills make a cute older couple, and that his nephew doesn’t look like a grumpy old man anymore.

Dishwasher running, cups of peppermint tea brewed, -for digestion, said Cas- they settle on the couch and find a Buck Rogers marathon. Before long, Dean feels himself nodding off, full and warm and comfortable. He looks to the side to see Cas, head reclined back, mouth hanging open. He’s out like a light. With a sleepy smile, Dean reaches out to pet his hair, indulging for once. Cas twitches, and Dean freezes, afraid of waking him up. What happens next, he couldn’t have anticipated.

Cas wriggles a bit, and ends up under Dean’s arm, head on his shoulder. Dean swallows, unsure what to do now. If he moves, he’ll probably wake up and then Dean will have to explain. If he doesn’t move, there’s the fact that Cas is pressed up against him, and he’s only got so much self control.

_Going to Hell, going to Hell..._

Carefully, gently, he settles his hand on Cas’ shoulder, and tries to get comfortable. Since he’s already sleepy, with Cas’ warm body leaning against him, it’s not long until he conks out too.

******

The day after Thanksgiving, Castiel takes the opportunity of having an empty house to do a thorough cleaning. He’s finished the upstairs bathroom and has just wiped down the kitchen when the doorbell rings. When he sees Dean, he can’t help but glance at his own disheveled state, currently wearing the rattiest clothes he owns for cleaning. He realizes he’s asking the man to come in before he can stop himself. Surprisingly, Dean does.

Dean mentions that he has pie. Oh, Dean made pie? He’d like to taste that, and he says so. The man makes an odd face and clears his throat, and he wonders if he’s coming down with a cold. When Dean suggests they share leftovers, Castiel can’t help but jump at the chance to taste Dean’s cooking. When he went to go see his family, the meal was catered. While it was nice having a meal with the few members in attendance, it would have been better to have helped prepare it. When Dean leaves, Castiel goes back to cleaning, working extra hard now that he knows Dean’s coming over.

After cleaning, he takes a shower and stands in front of his closet deciding what to wear. Usually, he goes over to Dean’s, and the atmosphere is casual. But he doesn’t want Dean to feel uncomfortable by wearing anything too nice. He chooses a sweater and some soft slacks, thinking his normal wear is probably the best option. When Dean shows up with food, he helps by taking the promised apple-cranberry pie and leading him to the kitchen.

Everything Dean brought tastes amazing, and he can’t help but make appreciative noises. He’s never had turkey so… not dry before. The green bean casserole is creamy but not soggy, and the stuffing… He wants to eat a whole container of it. Unfortunately, Dean doesn’t seem to be enjoying what Castiel offered, and he looks down at his own plate, mostly empty. Now he feels guilty for eating Dean’s food. Having heard Dean clear his throat multiple times, Castiel asks him if he’d like some peppermint tea since he seems to be getting a cold. Dean says he’s fine, but Castiel keeps an eye on him. Next is pie. Oh, it’s absolutely perfect, and when he suggests ice cream, he’s moved by Dean’s enthusiasm. When he hears Dean moan around a bite, he wonders, _is that how I sounded?_ The blush that creeps up his face does not go unnoticed.

While they clear the table, Dean asks him about his own Thanksgiving, and he mentions who was there, and who was missing and why. He expects Dean to ask more, but he stays quiet. It’s just as well, family is still a touchy subject, considering how much he’s lost. Dean mentions his own dinner briefly, and Castiel enjoys watching Dean’s face light up at the romance between Bobby and the Sheriff. Dean’s face softens while mentioning his nephew.

Castiel sneakily manages to get Dean his peppermint tea, claiming it’s for digestion. That’s a half-truth, because he’s still concerned about the man having a cold. Dean finds a show that’s running a marathon, and they settle on the couch. Unfortunately, Castiel has underestimated how much energy he expended while cleaning. With a belly full of good food, and Dean next to him, he quickly falls asleep.

When he wakes up, he’s leaning into Dean, and there’s an arm wrapped around his shoulder. Well, this is definitely unexpected. Heart rate increasing, he looks up and watches Dean’s face. It’s relaxed, and his lips are parted, breathing softly. He’s so close all he needs to do is lean in… No, that’s wrong, sneaking a kiss without permission. Carefully, he unwraps Dean’s arm from his shoulder, and he slides off the couch. Grabbing an afghan, he covers up the sleeping man and indulges in the softest of kisses on top of Dean’s head. Castiel smiles, and goes upstairs to prepare for bed.

***

Dean wakes up, disoriented. Oh, he fell asleep on the couch. With Cas. But it’s dark and Cas is gone. He thinks of getting up, but he’s too comfortable under the afghan that smells like Cas… and popcorn. Scooting down to stretch across the couch, he drifts back to sleep.

The next morning, Cas offers to cook him breakfast, but Dean declines, mumbling something about meeting his brother for breakfast. Totally a lie, but the thought of Cas being domestic, combined with his morning hard-on, is going to drive him insane. The sharp, cold air clears his thoughts and kills the boner in his pants.

\---

Dean finally starts reading the book after Dan dies and goes to Hell, _Lazarus Rising_. The author doesn't get into much internalization, thank God, and that’s completely out of character, because the asshole usually loves talking about feelings and crap. Although the hand-shaped scar on Dan’s arm is fucking creepy. How does the dude know this shit? Dean kind of likes the scene when Dan first meets Kafziel, because he shoves a demon-killing knife in the dude’s chest, not realizing it won’t do anything.

The part about the angel taking a vessel is a little too close to demons though, and he wonders if that will be explored more in-depth later. Are angels made just like demons? Do they start out as humans and then become so righteous in heaven they turn into angels? The author’s writing isn’t very consistent on that matter, leaning heavily into traditional myths for some creatures, and completely changing them for others.

Further in, he finds out that the brothers are meant to be vessels for an archangel and the devil, and that just pisses Dean off. All this shit, and if Dan hadn’t brought his brother back none of this would have happened? Bullshit. Seems more likely to him that the author wanted to continue to write books, so ignored his own canon.

Another interesting thing is how the angel starts defying orders to follow the brothers. Well, while it makes the story interesting, he finds it odd that a freaking ancient celestial being would throw in his lot with a couple of fucked in the head codependent brothers with death wishes.

However, he doesn’t appreciate the book _Mystery Spot_ , either, where basically a trickster keeps killing Dan to make his brother follow his path and accept the devil. After all, Dan’s supposed to be based on him, so even though some of the scenes are damn funny, it’s kind of _his_ butt getting electrocuted, or hit by a car, or having a piano fall on him.

If he hadn’t already subjected himself to the other books so far, he might think all this was going to tie together somehow, but he has read everything up till now, and except for maybe a couple of early foreshadowings, he just thinks it’s sloppy writing.

But then again, the guy cranks out so many freaking books, maybe he’s having trouble keeping it all straight. It’s still sloppy writing. When he mentions this to Charlie, she says he’d be right at home with the forum trolls on Edlund’s site. She also says some of the fanfiction fixes a couple of plot points, but most of it’s gay porn.

“ _What_? Why?”

She says the forum flaming was pretty bad before the angel showed up and most of the diehard fans still believe the brothers are incestuously gay for each other.

Whoa, and he thought they had enough issues, just based on the story.

Charlie babbles about Remincest for a while, before she mentions that a large portion of fans have converted to Daziel.

“What’s that, a new angel?”

“Oh, you wish. It’s Dan/Kafziel.”

 _What_?! There’s nothing suggesting that in the books. While he’ll admit the incest thing is freaking creepy, the brothers are awfully codependent with each other. But Dan and the angel? Yeah, maybe the angel gets a little stalker-creepy with the watching over him thing, but… He really doesn’t wanna think about it, considering the angel is kind of supposed to be Cas.

Dammit, there’s another freaking parallel. Except it’s inverted, because Dean’s the one falling for an angel, not the other way around. Whoa, now he’s getting damn creepy, calling Cas an angel. He says he’s gotta go and gets off the phone with Charlie. Feeling a headache coming on, he takes an Ibuprofen. He’s not sure how much he can take, trying to be just friends with Cas. But wanting anything more would just be plain wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mameshiba: If you don’t understand this reference, please see [here](http://dogatch.jp/mameshibaworld) and [here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mameshiba_\(character\)).
> 
> Kafziel: Greek spelling of Cassiel, thus Castiel.


	13. Let it Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: none that I noticed

Friday, November thirtieth, just as Dean’s getting ready to close up the office for the weekend, he sees Cas twitching excitedly outside the office. With a puzzled smile, he lets the guy in, since he obviously seems excited about something. After hanging the closed sign and locking the door, he turns to Cas who looks like he’s about to burst.

“Something up, Cas?”

A breath explodes from Cas, like he’s been holding it the entire time. “I just came back from my appointment with Dr. Naomi.”

Crossing his arms, Dean leans against the desk, waiting for Cas to continue. “And?”

All in a rush, “And Meg will be leaving this weekend!” Cas is beaming, giving one of those smiles that shows off his gums and lights up his whole face.

Dean’s shocked for a moment before replying, “No shit?”

Cas can’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands. “Apparently, the doctor thinks I’m stable enough to not need a babysitter!”

Once, Dean joked that was what Meg seemed like, a babysitter for a grown adult, and right now, it seems appropriate. Dean can’t help but grin back at him.

“That’s great, Cas. So is Anna moving back in?”

Cas frowns at that, “I’m not sure yet. I think she’s enjoying living with her friend, and I would hate to make her come back, since the whole reason she moved here in the first place was to watch over me.”

“Don’t think that way Cas! I’ve told you this, She actually cares for you. Yeah, she might like her own space, but it’s not because moving back would mean taking care of you, because you obviously don’t need it anymore.”

Dean pats Cas’ shoulder and Cas’ smile goes a little crooked. “You really think so?”

“Yeah, and your doc agrees with me. All you would need to be a completely functioning member of society is to get a job.”

Shit. Cas’ smile fades at that suggestion. “You think I need a job?”

“No,” _shit, what did I just say?_ “That’s not what I’m saying. Listen.”

He pulls a chair up for Cas and invites him to sit down.

“You’ve got enough money you don’t need to work. But, lots of people enjoy having a job, doing something for others. Even if it’s volunteer work, I think it would be good if you went out there and… I dunno, did something.”

“Hmmm…” Cas thinks about this for a moment. “You know, Dr. Naomi suggested something very similar, and mentioned perhaps something involving volunteering.”

He beams, “Thank you so much for the advice, Dean.”

Dean shrugs, “Isn’t that what friends are for?”

The beginning of December starts out relatively mild, even though temperatures at night frequently drop below freezing. However, that quickly changes on the 7th. They suddenly get a few inches of snow, and Dean gets to test out his new snowblower. Bobby attaches a scraper to the front of his tow truck to help plow the parking lot. After that, there are only a few days above freezing, and the nights get downright frigid, often in the single digits or negative numbers. The weather makes his damaged arm tense and twitch, if it gets too cold.

Dean’s been trying to cut back on how often he sees Cas, because it’s to the point that he just wants to wrap the dude up and keep him warm. And that would lead to… other things that he tries really hard not to think about. Even though the guy never seems to feel the cold, he can see him shivering. Using the excuse that Cas isn’t an employee, Dean makes him stop coming to spread salt on the sidewalks. He gets Benny to cut back at the diner on snow days to help out. He hates doing it, but this is Cas. Cas, who he is having increasing difficulties being around because his fantasies have been increasingly… vivid lately.

Dean finally finishes the Supernatural books, _Swan Song_ being the last one to come out. He absolutely hates the ending, with Saul sacrificing himself to save the world and trap the devil. People die and come back to life way too often in this damn series. With a warning about how the stories are completely untrue and how some things can be a bit creepy with the personal details, he passes the books on the Kindle to Cas. Hopefully it will keep the guy occupied for a while as he slogs through them.

On the fifteenth, they get another good snow dump, and luckily they’ve got plenty of de-ice salt. While Benny’s a great help, Dean still ends up exhausted by the time he drags in the door, after running around playing in the freaking snow all day. Last year wasn’t nearly this bad, but after getting an early snow in October, he decided that being prepared was the way to go and got one of those warm coverall sets so that he wouldn’t be trudging around in wet jeans. It’s already earned back the cost.

The snow just keeps coming, and the problem is, it isn’t melting. They just keep piling it up off to the sides of the parking lot, and soon they have tall mountains of the stuff. They even have to post notices to keep people from playing on the piles, because the last thing they need is Roman Enterprises hearing about an injury and claiming negligence. Pretty soon they’ll have to get a couple of dump trucks out here to carry it away.

The weather’s so bad, Lisa cancels Ben’s Christmas/New Year visit. Dean doesn’t complain, because the last thing he wants to do is have his son get in some kind of weather-related accident, or even get stuck in an airport. However, there’s a hollow feeling from the disappointment of not being able to see his son after looking forward to it for months. He promises Ben he’ll mail his gifts as soon as possible, and they’ll Skype when they can.

******

In December, Castiel starts volunteering at one of the local food banks. He finds he enjoys the work, knowing that all the donated food he helps sort will go toward needy families, those who don’t have enough support or finances, like he does. Over time, he gets to know some of the other volunteers, and he finds everyone has a different background. One is a student that is using his time for community service credits through a school program. Another is a man who says he just has free time. One person, though, is giving back in thanks to when she needed assistance.

Her name is Lillian, and she’s been caring for her two children all by herself. After getting laid off of work, it was all she could do to keep her children clothed and a roof over their heads. At first, she had been afraid to ask for help, that they might try to take her children away from her. But one day, a basket of food appeared on her doorstep, with a note that an anonymous neighbor left.

She only needed assistance until she found a new job, and she’s been giving back ever since. She brings her children, Trevor and Tess, as well as her neighbor’s kids, and the children are allowed to help with small sorting jobs. In between sorts, while Castiel is working on a scarf for Dean, that he’s hoping to give as a Christmas present, Lillian sits next to him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man knit before.”

Castiel smiles, and holds up his work. “It’s for a friend, I didn’t know what else to give him for Christmas.”

Her eyes widen at that, and her expression changes to a knowing look. “Must be a pretty special friend.”

Grinning, he carefully sets down his work, the knit wool wrapped around his special, flexible, connected needles where he’s making it in the round, and turns to her. “He’s one of the few people to be there for me, and I just want to give something back.”

With a soft smile, she places a hand on his shoulder, looking at the scarf. “I understand that feeling, sweetie.”

Soon they become friends, and she sometimes takes him home after volunteering. Castiel also has made friends with her children, and soon he’s teaching them how to knit as well, although the simpler way with two regular needles. When he’s not at the food bank, he’s reading the _Supernatural_ books that Dean passed on to him.

The books are quite fascinating, with the different creatures, and the story of two brothers who would do anything for each other. Although he can see why Dean would be a bit bothered by the story, and how the personalities have been largely fictionalized to tell the story. One day, while watching Dean and Benny clean up after a particularly heavy snowfall, Castiel thinks about salt. He wonders, if they were able to salt all the way around the entire complex, if it would keep ghosts out. Just an idle curiosity, not a delusion.

Although Castiel has been busy, he still tries to make time to see Dean. The man looks exhausted on days he has to clear up the newest snowfalls, so he tries to give him space. It’s good for himself, this distance, because he’s becoming too attached to the handsome apartment manager. Dean gives him no indication he’s interested in more than friendship, and lately it’s difficult to keep up the facade. In spite of the difficulties, he shows up at lunchtime on occasion, with a hearty meal.

Today he brings a large container of homemade stew, with fat chunks of potato and carrot, and shredded chunks of beef swimming in the thick base. There’s other vegetables, but Castiel purposefully included the most filling pieces with his offering to Dean. It’s a mistake agreeing to eat with him, however, as he’s subjected to the low moans of the man enjoying his meal. Dean frowns when he sees Castiel has barely touched the small serving he’d gotten for himself.

“You alright, Cas? Hardly eaten anything.”

Oh, my appetite isn’t for _stew_ , right now. No, time to derail that particular train of thought. Trying to formulate an adequate reply, Castiel stares out the window a moment, watching sparse snowflakes drift past. “I suppose I sampled too much before I came over.”

Dean grins and blows on a spoonful of stew. “Yeah, I do that too sometimes, although since I usually cook for myself, it’s not really a problem.”

He shovels in his cooled spoonful, and chews thoughtfully before swallowing. “Speaking of, how’s the bachelor life, Cas?”

This causes Castiel to shift his full attention to Dean, with a quizzical furrow of his brow.

“I mean,” Dean looks at his bowl and sets it down, “You’ve been living in that pretty large apartment by yourself for a while, how’re you handling it?”

Castiel shrugs, “It’s alright. I spend a good portion of my time volunteering now, so I find it’s not as lonely as one would suspect.” He picks at the hem of his sweater, “And the books you loaned me help fill up a good portion of alone time as well.”

They discuss where he’s gotten in the series, and he’s reading about the family that eats people. It’s more than mildly disturbing. He watches as Dean crumbles a couple of crackers into the bottom of his bowl to soak up the last of his stew. While lost in a train of thought about what it would take for a person to actually raise a family that way, Dean clears his throat loudly, and Castiel realizes everything’s already been cleared away.

“My apologies. I was thinking of the sociological implications of cannibalism.”

“Dude, I just ate!”

Castiel glances into his lap and mumbles, “Sorry.”

“No, Cas…” There’s a moment of silence, then Dean clears his throat again. “Listen, just… drop it.”

At that, Castiel raises his eyes, and Dean looks contrite, glancing off to the side. But… Dean’s not the one who did anything wrong. Is he trying to consider Castiel’s feelings? His face warms at the thought, that Dean might want to make him feel better about that. While he looks at Dean, the man glances up and their eyes lock. Dean’s mouth opens, closes, opens again, and Castiel watches the motion of his lips.

“Whatcha doing for Christmas?”

He blinks for a moment, realizing Dean just said something. “Hmm?”

“Christmas. You have plans?”

His attention focuses back on Dean’s eyes, as Castiel recognizes the drift of his focus. “Oh, um, yes actually. I’ll be at Gabriel’s, same as Thanksgiving.”

Dean’s eyebrows shift upward, “So you guys are getting along okay now?”

“As a matter fact, yes.” A smile turns up the corners of his mouth. “Gabriel said that we’ve spent too long trying to be what his father wanted us to be, and now we should try to figure out who we really are.”

“Wow. That’s impressive.”

“And you, Dean? Will Ben be coming soon?”

Dean’s expression shifts. “Actually, unless there’s a sudden clearing in the weather, I don’t think he’s coming. Too much of a hazard to travel.”

“Oh.” Castiel has to stop himself from saying he’s sorry again. “I know you’ve been looking forward to seeing him.”

He watches as Dean purses his lips in thought, then shrugs. “Ehh. I’ll have more time to spoil my little nephew, right?” Dean puts on a smile that Castiel has come to know as his  ‘for show’ face, the one he uses when he doesn’t want to talk about something. He lets the conversation drop.

\---

Castiel’s Christmas is better than Thanksgiving, and since he’s going to Gabriel’s to stay the night Christmas Eve, he’s determined to try his hand at the holiday dinner. Bolstered by Dean’s cooking and a magazine full of recipes, he bakes a ham. Everyone helps in the kitchen for Christmas, and it warms his heart to see Gabriel and Anna mixing pie filling while Kali helps him knead the dough for rolls. They all exchange simple gifts early, and Gabriel has been wearing the hat that Castiel made for him, knitted with soft, merino wool dyed a beautiful golden hue, ever since.

Gabriel found old-fashioned, English style party crackers*, and they all end up wearing cheap paper crowns by the end of their meal, laughing over the cheesy jokes and tiny toys inside. The wine has flowed freely throughout the day, but Castiel only has one glass, wary of his reaction since the Halloween fiasco. After they all help clear the table, Gabriel and Kali disappear, leaving Anna and Castiel alone by the fire in the den.

Unsure what to do, Castiel settles into a chair with the scarf he’s been making, and watches the flames dance from the burning logs. After a while, Anna disappears and returns with a steaming mug of chai tea. She sits next to him, and watches as he sips the sweet and spicy concoction. Picking up the finished end and playing with it, she asks, “Who’s the scarf for, Cas?”

Startled, as he’s still not used to anyone saying his name that way but Dean, he carefully lowers his knitting to his lap and keeps his eyes focused on it. “I, um…”

Anna places a hand over his folded ones. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

He looks into her hazel eyes, searching. With a sigh, he places his knitting on a side table and takes her hand in his. “Have you ever been in love before?”

Her eyes widen, and a smile spreads across her face. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so happy for you! Who is she?”

How is he going to tell her? His eyebrows crease, and he sucks in his lips, biting them before continuing. “First of all, it’s unrequited.” Her eyes go concerned, “And second…” He takes in a breath and gulps, “it’s not a she.”

Watching as her brow scrunches, he notices she never lets go of his hands at this news. Anna’s mouth hangs open before she speaks. Carefully, she asks, “Do I know who he is?”

Unable to look at her, Castiel closes his eyes and nods. Her hands tighten around his, and he can hear her breathe in. Her breath hitches as if she’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. When she continues to say nothing, he looks up, and sees a… guilty expression on her face.

“Anna?”

Her palms are growing damp, but still she holds on. “Does he know how you feel?”

With a slight, sad quirk of his lips, he shakes his head. Anna wraps her arms around him, and after a while they talk about it. He tells her everything, and she feels guilty enough to tell him what happened between her and Dean, quick to point out they both regretted it and that it should have never happened. Castiel says it’s okay with a sad smile before going up to bed. Letting everything out like that has hollowed him out, and he didn’t even really react to Anna’s confession. It should be okay, there’s no reason for him to feel jealous when he knows there’s no chance anything could happen between he and Dean anyway. So why does his heart ache?

***

Two days straight, right before Christmas, it snows again, but this is just a dusty coating. Unfortunately, the sub-zero temperatures make it less than fun due to the slick ice hiding underneath. It’s all Dean can do to scrape together some presents for everybody in time. They’re planning on doing Christmas at Sam’s since this will be little Tom’s first one. He got two presents for Sam, one wrapped in newspaper and another tucked away in an inner pocket of his coat.

Christmas Eve, Cas goes over to Gabe’s to spend the night, getting a ride with Anna since he doesn’t have a car of his own yet. Dean didn’t know what to get him, so before the guy leaves he gives him a dorky Christmas card that sings holiday songs when you open it. Cas’s eyes twinkle at him, and he’s not sure if he’s being laughed at behind those blue depths. Dean’s told he’ll have to wait on his, because “It’s not finished yet”.

What’s that supposed to mean? But no amount of ribbing before Anna comes to collect Cas will get the secret from him.

Christmas dawns clear and bright, and Dean carefully navigates the Impala to Sam’s. The place is warm and toasty inside, with a small tree on a table in the living room that’s big enough for Thomas to watch the twinkling lights, but high enough he can't accidentally hurt himself with it. The little dude’s been sticking everything in his mouth lately. Jess thinks he might start teething soon.

They open presents, and since Dean sucks at gifts, Jess receives something Sam picked out for him. He gives Sam the joke gift first, a can of shaving cream wrapped in the cheesiest porn mag he could find. Sam doubles over in laughter, having recently read the Supernatural book with the Christmas scene in it. Sam digs behind the tree to pull out his own plain-wrapped gift for Dean, and he finds a bottle of motor oil and a candy bar. Dean decides to take it one step further and ask for his spiked eggnog.

“You’ll get the plain stuff and you’ll like it,” Sam mock-frowns at him.

They trade real gifts then. He gives Sam a cufflink and tie pin set, shaped like the scales of justice. Set in the scales are tiny emeralds.

“Wow, Dean.”

“It doesn’t suck?”

Sam laughs, “No, it doesn’t suck. Thanks.”

“I was afraid it would be too cheesy.”

“Are you kidding? Gabe will love to see me wearing something like this.”

Sam’s present is in a little tin shaped like a toolbox and inside are gift cards to Lowe’s and Home Depot, plus cards to Advance and O’Reilly Auto Parts.

“Dude, do I want to know how much is loaded on each of these?”

Sam smiles at him, “Just wait till you get home to check the balances.”

Christmas dinner is simple, and Bobby’s actually missing on this occasion. He decided to spend the holiday with Jody, even though she could get called in at a moment’s notice. The old man says they can spend one holiday without him for a change.

While Sam and Jess clean up the table, insisting Dean sit back and relax, he keeps little Tom company, blowing raspberries on his belly and helping feed him. The kid squeals in delight and babbles at Dean. For just a moment, he feels a little pang as he thinks about missing this part of Ben’s childhood. That reminds him, he needs to Skype the kid.

Thomas tucked into his elbow, he tells Sam he’s going to borrow his computer, and gets in touch with Ben just as he’s testing out a brand-new laptop. He shows off Ben’s baby cousin, and after getting a significant amount of baby-drool all over the keyboard, they call it a night.

Sam and Jess urge Dean to stay the night, using how cold it is outside as an excuse. He helps rock Thomas to sleep, and he and Sam share some eggnog before everyone tucks in for the night, with Dean in the guest bedroom. The same room Jess’ parents stayed in when they came to visit. Which they’ll be doing again for New Year to visit their little grandbaby. Heh, Dean thinks Sam might be coming to hang out with him again if they stay more than a couple of days.

December 27th, it snows all freaking day. All. Day. And it continues into the 28th as well, until almost midday. He and Benny exhaust themselves trying to keep the sidewalks and parking lot clear. They got at least eight inches. They’re running out of places to pile the stuff. Charlie skipped town for warmer climates well before Christmas, and Dean has to check on her place about once a week to make sure the heat stays working. Plus, his arm is acting up again from all the shoveling and he has to get out to go see Pam and her magic acupuncture needles.

New Year’s eve, Dean decides he’s just going to stay at home and watch the ball drop in New York before going the heck to bed. Besides, anywhere else he goes, people are going to be getting drunk off their asses, and he doesn’t want to be around all that anyway. When Cas offers to spend the evening with him, he declines as politely as possible, trying to not hurt the guy’s feelings. But when the ball drops, he’s going to have the urge to kiss someone, and Cas will be too tempting to ignore. When it turns midnight in NYC, an hour ahead of local time, he takes a pull on the one beer he’s allowed himself tonight, and salutes the screen.

“Happy New Year, bitches. Time for bed.”

\---

During the first week of January, Dean gets a call from Charlie. She’s currently in Vegas, and while it’s still pretty cold there, at least there’s no snow and she doesn’t have to go outside of she doesn’t want to. Her voice sounds a trifle smug over the line.

“What’s up, my nerf herder?”

Dean chuckles, “Mountains of snow. If I didn’t know you were off in drier climes, I’d think you were buried in the middle of one of them.”

She sighs, and complains about all the strippers she’s had to keep occupied, and Dean growls playfully. When she asks about Cas, Dean tenses up a bit, but she made friends with the dude, so it’s not surprising she’d ask. Just because it’s through him, doesn’t mean she thinks…

“Hellooo… Dean? Did I lose you?”

“Uh, sorry, got distracted.”

“It’s okay. So how’s my favorite cuckoo’s nest escapee?”

Dean mentions how Cas is actually doing a lot better, and how he’s been volunteering at the food bank. He’s kind of glad he suggested Cas do something productive to occupy his time, because he actually does seem much better and level-headed. When he asks Charlie why she’s asking him instead of Cas himself, she says she’s tried, but the guy doesn’t trust his own judgement apparently.

There's a moment of silence on the phone, then Charlie asks if they’ve gotten any more harassment from Roman Enterprises recently. He says no, and Bobby had actually commented that it was too damn quiet right after Christmas. Charlie squawks into the phone, and then reveals she’s been anonymously leaking some of the less savory dealings of the company, slowly over the past few months. The company’s reputation is in the toilet, so they don’t dare try to do anything that might actually hurt them worse if it comes out.

Oh man, this woman is so completely awesome. Dean says, “Charlie, I love you,” to which she replies smugly, “I know.”

They laugh quietly at the Star Wars reference. “So, now that I don’t need access to Roman’s files anymore, I can take that job offer.”

“What’s that?”

“Oh, just one of the coolest opportunities ever. I’m going to be the lead technical consultant for a security company.”

“That’s awesome.”

He asks about the author thing, and she says she’s a genius, not a miracle worker. Apparently Carver Edlund takes a hiatus after a book is released, and lets the fans speculate for a while before coming in and stirring up trouble. But it’s been a while, so she’s just waiting for her chance to catch him logging in so she can pinpoint him. After a little longer on the phone, they hang up and the first thing he does is call Sam and Bobby to tell them the news.

Dean thinks about calling Cas, but why call when he can come over? Yeah, he’s been trying to cut back on contact, but he’s still the guy’s friend. After knocking on the door and not getting an answer, he thinks maybe he should've called after all. As he turns to go, hands shoved deep in his pockets, a maroon soccer-mom style minivan pulls up and Cas gets out, waving at a gaggle of kids of varying ages. He’s got a grocery bag stuffed with what kind of looks like a blue and green sweater. The van pulls away and Cas turns to Dean.

“Dean! Hello.”

A shy smile spreads across the man’s face, and he slowly pulls the bag behind himself. “I wasn’t expecting to see you. Ummm, how are you?”

Wait, is Cas hiding something? Hmmm… To test his theory, Dean sidesteps and looks at the bag. Cas spins, and looks down. Hey, is the guy actually blushing?

Grinning, Dean asks, “Whatcha got in the bag, Cas?”

“I, um…” Cas stammers, “It was supposed to be wrapped first…” And he blushes even harder.

 _Uhh, wait, what? Is that… thing… in the bag for me?_ Dean blinks for a moment.

“Hey, sorry. I’ll just go…”

“No, wait.” Cas reaches out and grabs Dean by the elbow. “Let’s just go inside, and I’ll explain.”

Clutching the grocery bag tightly, Cas follows Dean into his blessedly warm apartment. He places the bag in a chair and quickly shucks off his coat, throwing it over and hiding the bag. They stand there awkwardly a moment, Dean having forgotten his excuse for coming over.

“Is there a reason you wanted to see me, Dean?”

Oh, that’s right, he has news. “Yeah, I got a call from Charlie earlier, she says Roman Enterprises shouldn’t be bothering us anymore.”

“That’s great, Dean.”

Cas’ small smile is almost enough to distract Dean from the thing the dude keeps trying to hide, but he flicks his eyes to the coat.

“So… you were gonna explain something?”

He sees Cas’ cheeks pinken again, and damn if that isn’t the… NOPE don’t go there. Cas reluctantly moves his coat and pulls the bag up onto the kitchen counter. He glances up at Dean before untying the handles.

“I’m sorry this is late, it took longer than I anticipated, I just finished it today.”

Not looking at Dean, he pulls the blue and green striped… scarf? from the bag, and squeezes it between his hands.

“Sorry it’s not much, but I wasn’t sure…” He holds it out with one hand, still not looking up. “Merry belated Christmas.”

Holy shit, Cas _made_ him a gift. With his own two hands. Gently, he pulls the scarf from Cas’ fist, watching it unfold, and he drags the length across his hands. Whoa. It’s actually pretty nice, with a gradient yarn that shifts between a jade green and bright blue, creating a striped effect. It’s as long as he is tall, and it appears to be kind of tube-shaped, making the thing twice as thick. Straightening the ends, he pulls it around his neck and just barely avoids rubbing it against his face in front of Cas.

“You… made this, for me?”

“I…” Cas finally looks up at him, “I was practicing knitting in the round, and when it got long enough, thought you might want a scarf while you’re out shoveling snow, so… I just kept going.”

“It’s great, Cas. I lo… it’s awesome. Thanks, dude.”

Shit, he almost said he loved it. He pulls the scarf through his fingers, and he encounters a tiny plastic unicorn tied to the fringe on one end. What? Holding it out, he looks at Cas questioningly.

“A unicorn?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Cas rushes over and grabs the end, fingering the knot holding the toy in place. “One of the children I was riding with said…” He looks away and blushes harder, “Said it would be good luck, and insisted.”

With a wide grin, Dean tugs the fringe from Cas’ fingers. “Well in that case, I’m keeping it tied on there.”

“What?” Cas looks up at him wide-eyed.

“Yeah, a good-luck charm from a kid, that’s big mojo. You didn’t know that?”

Cas shakes his head and looks away.

“But you could have taken your time and waited until my birthday.”

Cas’ eyes snap right back to him, an eyebrow raised. Oh, that’s right, he’s never told him that.

“Not that it’s a big deal or anything, because it’s not.”

He remembers where Cas spent his birthday, in the mental hospital. There’s a tickler file with things like resident’s birthdays and stuff, and Dean will usually deliver a card or something. But he didn’t know what to do since Cas was away, and after what he and Anna did… well, it felt a little weird.

“Dean, when is your birthday?”

Cas has that inquisitive head tilt thing going on, and it’s so adorab… NO, stop thinking about that! Dean looks down at the scarf and shoves his hand inside the tube that was created with the round knitting Cas used. The yarn is soft, and he starts impulsively snaking his hand further in, bunching up the material around his wrist and forearm, the further he goes.

“It’s the twenty-fourth, of this month.”

He keeps staring at where his hand burrows deeper into the scarf.

“Not a big deal, I mean Sam will wanna take me out to eat or something, but…” He half-shrugs and looks up, “I don’t usually celebrate or anything.”

They stand there in awkward silence for a moment, neither not quite sure what to say next. Cas notices how far Dean’s hand is into the scarf, about halfway now. With a furrowed brow and a quirk of his lips, he asks, “Dean, what are you doing?”

Dean realizes just how far his hand has gone, and waves it lamely, with a half-smile. “Giant arm-warmer?”

That causes Cas to break out into a full smile followed by a laugh that makes Dean light up at the sound. Dean thinks it’s time to go before he does something stupid like blurt out how much he wants to kiss that smile off of Cas’ face. After a hastily mumbled excuse, he slips out back into the cold and bundles the scarf around his neck, finally allowing himself to nuzzle the soft knit. He wears it almost every day for the rest of the winter.

******

In between Christmas and New Year’s, Castiel finished Dean’s scarf. It’s about six feet long, and the gradient blue and green looks beautiful all folded up. He’s wanted to give it to the man, but hasn’t been sure when. He thought he had the opportunity during New Year’s Eve, but Dean said he was just going to bed early, and that he didn’t feel like company. Dean had seemed tired lately, with all the snow he’s had to deal with, so Castiel decided the gift could wait a while longer.

After the new year, he decided he should add some fringe to the ends of his scarf, and while waiting for Lillian to gather everyone she’s driving home, one of the smaller children comes up to him. Her name is Maddie, and she’s holding a little bag of animals in her fist.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Finishing a present.”

“Who’s it for?”

He stops to look at the child, wide eyes and honest expression looking up at him.“A special friend.”

Maddie scrambles up into the chair next to him. “Do you love your friend?”

Castiel feels a twinge in his chest at the mention of love. Nodding, he replies, not looking up as he ties on another strand of fringe, “Yes Maddie, very much.”

The child digs around in the little bag of animals and pulls out a tiny, white unicorn. “Here, for your friend.”

Puzzled, he puts down the scarf and turns to Maddie, taking the plastic toy from her outstretched hand. “Why are you giving me this?”

“Because you looked sad talking about your friend. Friends should never be sad.” She shuffles off the chair, and holds up one end of the scarf. “Unicorns are magical. You make a wish, tie it on, and you’ll be bestest friends forever and ever, and never be sad again.”

He stares at the tiny piece of molded plastic in his palm, then at Maddie. “Does this make us friends too?”

“You’re silly!” She giggles, “We was already friends.”

Overcome, Castiel pulls her in for a quick hug, then while she watches, carefully ties the tiny plastic unicorn into one of the fringes.

“Don’t forget to make a wish!”

“I won’t, Maddy,” he says with a chuckle. Dare he wish for more than Dean’s friendship? He’s afraid of being too greedy, to ask for too much.

When he arrives home, Castiel thanks Lillian for the ride and as he gets out of the van, says goodbye to the children piled up in the back. He’s so distracted, he doesn’t see Dean until after he turns away from the parking lot towards his door.

“Dean! Hello.”

Oh, he hasn’t wrapped the scarf up yet, and it’s right here, very visible in the bag. He tries to distract Dean with talking, while hiding the item behind his back. It doesn’t work, and Dean asks what’s in the bag. And of course he stammers something aloud, about how it hasn’t been wrapped yet. Dean looks surprised for a moment, then indicates he’s leaving. But he doesn’t want him to go. Without thinking, he reaches out and grabs him. He needs to explain, and Dean agrees to go inside.

Nervous, Castiel fumbles with his keys before finally getting the door open. Once they’re inside, his brain unfreezes and he remembers Dean was outside of his apartment, as if waiting for him. After a quick attempt at hiding the bag under his coat, he asks why. Dean tells him about Charlie fixing the harassment from Roman Enterprises, and while it’s great they won’t be bothering them anymore, all he can think about is that scarf. Unfortunately, Dean remembers it, too.

After digging the scarf out, he bunches it up between his fists before unceremoniously shoving it towards Dean, babbling the whole time. Why did he think giving him this was a good idea? But Dean takes it from his fist carefully, and all the work of trying to find the perfect yarn, the perfect colors, it’s all worth it. Dean treats it like a treasure, wrapping it around his neck. Oh, it’s as lovely as he imagined, and seeing Dean happily wear his own handcrafted item… He almost doesn’t hear Dean ask if he made it for him.

He stumbles through another explanation, and then Dean finds the unicorn. He’s more gracious than Castiel expected, wanting to leave the unicorn in. Of course, he doesn’t explain the true intentions behind it. Because that would be revealing too much. No one could ever drag from him the secret wish he made on that tiny plastic unicorn.

Then Dean mentions his birthday. What? On the 24th? So soon?  But Dean doesn’t seem to want to make a big deal of it. He can kind of relate, it’s been a while since birthdays meant anything to him other than growing a year older. Castiel notices that Dean is doing something strange with his scarf, and when he asks about it, Dean calls it an arm warmer. Seeing the man wave his arm, encased in the scarf, sends him into a fit of laughter. It helps soften the blow of Dean leaving his apartment. He notices that almost every time Dean goes outside after that, he’s wearing that scarf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * [Party Crackers](http://www.oldenglishcrackers.com/party-crackers-c-2.html): Not the kind you eat.


	14. Be Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: hurt/comfort.

They get a small reprieve in the weather during the middle of January, when they have  a few days where it actually gets above freezing. Unfortunately, there’s been so much snow before this, large lakes of ice form when it all freezes overnight. They still get some more snow, but it’s not as bad as before.

The morning after one of these light snow dustings, Dean’s out spreading salt when he hits a hidden patch of ice and lands flat on his back right on the hard pavement. He cracks his head pretty good, and he lays there for a moment, seeing stars as he catches his breath. He hears someone call his name, and soon there’s a face hovering over his.

“Oh, hi Cas!” he wheezes.

“Dean, are you alright? Can you move your hands and feet?”

“Yeah, of course I can, just… need to get my bearings for a sec…” Groaning, he tries to gather his thoughts.

Cas reaches down and feels the back of his head, and he winces when the guy finds the lump back there.

“SHIT!”

“Sorry Dean, but I need to see how bad your injuries are. Look me in the eye, I need to check your pupils.”

Even darkened with worry, Cas’ eyes are pretty. When Cas’ eyes widen, Dean wonders if he actually said it out loud.

“Dean, can you move your feet for me now? Just rotate them at the ankles.”

He wiggles them, feeling silly. He wants to get up off the cold sidewalk, but Cas makes him hold still.

“Alright, now make fists with your hands?”

He does so.

“Can you pull up your knees?”

Yup to that one too.

“And bring your arms across your chest?’

“Alright, now. How badly does your back hurt?”

With an exasperated huff, Dean answers, “I just busted my ass and my head on some ice, Cas. It feels like I’m gonna be sitting funny for a week, and have a headache for almost as long. Now will you let me get up? it’s freezing out here!”

The guy barely even blinks, just huffs at him and continues his analytical manner. “Carefully roll onto your side, Dean. I can’t help you, you need to be able to do it yourself.”

With a groan, he does eventually manage to roll over as instructed.

“I should call an ambulance, Dean. You could have a concussion, internal injuries, fractured vertebrae…”

“Dude, if you let me get off this freezing pavement, you can cart me anywhere you want for a full body x-ray, just let me get inside!”

Slowly and painfully,  Dean gets to his feet as Cas watches with a critical eye. Mostly, he feels like the wind got knocked out of him and he must have cracked his head good, gonna get a goose egg from that one. Maybe he didn’t actually bust his ass as hard as he thought, because now that he’s upright and moving, that part’s feeling a lot better. He’ll still be sore as hell later though.

Cas convinces Dean to go to the hospital, and Benny takes them there, Cas sandwiched in between on the bench seat of Benny’s old truck. Once in the hospital, the docs look Dean over, but they don’t order a CT scan. When they suggest he stay overnight for observation, he mentions he knows an EMT friend who can look after him. The doc insists on seeing this EMT friend, and speaks with Cas, before allowing Dean to leave after signing a waiver.

During the drive back, Dean thinks everyone’s overreacting. Cas insists on staying with Dean to check on him every couple of hours, just until he’s sure he’s okay. Dean can’t help but enjoy having Cas fretting over him, although being woken up every few hours to make sure he’s okay is a little annoying.

Luckily, they don’t get any more heavy snow for a few days, and Dean gets a mini vacation with his own hot nurse Cas coming by to visit. He doesn’t get any sponge baths though. No, he gets to deal with his awkward boners all by himself.  Apparently a concussion doesn’t keep him from having the occasional fantasy featuring Cas, which if he’s a little honest, have been getting more frequent as of late.

Even though Dean insists Cas not do anything for his birthday, the man still comes over and bakes stupid cupcakes, and later in the evening, Sam and Benny come over. They have some beers, cram an emergency candle into one of the cupcakes, and sing the stupid birthday song. Sam at least knows better than to bring a gift, but Benny brings pizza. Well, at least it’s not a real party or anything. And maybe the cupcakes are really good and he sneaks one when no one’s looking.

******

One morning while Castiel is waiting for his ride to the food bank, he sees Dean, out doing his morning de-icer spreading. He can’t help but stop and watch the man, the scarf he knit for him bundled around his neck, and he’s shuffling along the icy sidewalk. While Dean’s spreading salt crystals, he slips on a particularly icy patch, falling flat on his back. Castiel can see his head bounce off the sidewalk, and before he realizes it, he’s outside, slipping on the slick surface, calling to Dean.

He runs through what he can remember about falling injuries, checking Dean’s mobility, response, and pupil dilation. He’s got a pretty good lump on his head, and that could mean concussion. Dean appears to be alert, but he says Castiel’s eyes are pretty. Albeit flattering, he can’t imagine Dean ever actually saying something like that, so he’s worried. While he remembered his coat, his phone is still on the table by the door, so he can’t immediately call an ambulance.

After making Dean test his mobility further, and getting some snark from the man, he breathes a sigh of relief that there doesn’t appear to be any major spine injury. He hovers over Dean while he gets up, and helps him back to the office. While waiting for Benny to take Dean to the hospital, as they agreed on, he rushes back for his phone to apologize to Lillian, saying he doesn’t need a ride due to an emergency.

Castiel insists on riding with him to the hospital, and he’s glad that he can talk to the doctor when Dean inevitably refuses to stay for observation. He tries to not feel overly excited about spending time at Dean’s again, because the circumstances are not something to celebrate. However he still feels a little thrill when he gets the man settled on the couch and goes in search of more comfortable clothes Dean can relax in.

While hunting for sweats, he opens a drawer and sees a familiar blue tie carefully rolled and tucked away. This is the tie he wore during the Halloween party. He’d completely forgotten about it. Has Dean been holding onto it this entire time? Why hasn’t he given it back yet? Maybe he just forgot about it as well. After a little shiver of excitement, remembering waking up in Dean’s bed, he closes the drawer and tries to ignore what he saw. Soon he’s gathered a change of clothes, and sends Dean to go change.

Castiel feels guilty for enjoying watching Dean sleep that evening, and wishes he didn’t have to wake up the irritable man every few hours. He also feels guilty for using Dean’s injury as an excuse to check up on him, bring him food, and fuss over the man in general for the next few days after. And it’s not his fault that Dean’s birthday is just a couple of days after his injury, or that he might casually mention to Benny that he’s making cupcakes. So when Benny and Sam show up, with pizza and beer, Dean doesn’t know that Castiel might have thrown him a small party. It’s funny seeing his face when they sing the birthday song and he digs an emergency candle out of his cupcake. He pretends not to notice the man sneak into the kitchen to eat another cupcake, even though he emerges with his cheeks bulging and frosting smeared next to his mouth.

***

On a day with freezing rain, the last week of January, Charlie calls Dean, babbling with excitement.

“Whoa, woman. Calm down. What’s happening?”

“I found Carver Edlund!” She practically screams into the phone, and he has to pull his ear away.

What she says finally registers. “Wow, that’s great, Charlie. So who is he?”

“You gotta promise to stay calm, Dean.”

“Why the hell do I need to stay calm? The dude’s been writing books loosely based on my life! I have the right to be a little pissed.”

He tries to take Charlie’s advice, and breathes in through his nose, deeply. After a long exhale, he tries again. “Okay, so who is he?”

There’s an uncomfortable pause on the other end before Charlie says, “So… does the name Chuck Shurley ring any bells for you?”

After a moment of completely blanking on the name, he remembers. That damn hermit. Who’s. Always. Late. With rent. Goddamn son of a motherfucking bitch. You gotta be kidding me.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Calm, Dean.”

Dean’s fingers of his left hand tighten on the armrest of his chair, and he can feel the damaged muscles in that arm strain. He has to unclench his teeth to talk.

“He’s a fucking hermit, Charlie. How could he know enough to base a series of freaking books off of me and Sam?”

He can almost hear her shrug. “Maybe he used to know somebody close to you?”

Teeth grinding, Dean can feel his blood pressure rise. He’s got half a mind to go over there right now and—

“Hey, tell me you’re not going over there right now.”

Dammit, when did she get so good at reading him? “I’m not going over there right now.”

“And you’ll take someone with you?”

To hold the sorry sack down, maybe. “I’ll take someone with me, Charlie.” He uses his ‘I’m suffering through this for your benefit’ tone.

“Good, because we don’t want you to get arrested for assaulting some poor schmuck.”

After some more banter, Dean calls Sam and tells him about Chuck freaking Shurley. Naturally, Sam handles it a lot better, and agrees to come by later, making him promise to wait. Dean hopes his brother will simultaneously keep himself in line as well as legally intimidate the writer.

Sure enough, when the big moose shows up in his shiny suit and tailored wool coat, Dean knows that between the two of them, Chuck should crap his pants. It’s almost five, the sun’s ready to set, and it’s freaking cold. He nuzzles into the scarf Cas gave him, trying to keep his face warm, as they approach #18 and ring the doorbell. Stomping to keep his feet warm, Dean rings the doorbell again impatiently. Eventually, the door opens and a shaggy head of hair appears between the door and frame, a striped bathrobe grasped tightly at his throat. Wide, pale blue eyes stare at them from a shadowed, haggard face.

“Can I help you?”

Dean scowls, and Sam clears his throat to remind him to behave, before saying, “Chuck Shurley?”

“Maybe. Why?” His voice sounds whiny, like he’s expecting to get served papers.

Dean steps up, leans against the doorframe. “I’m Dean, this is Sam. Winchester. Name sound familiar?”

The man’s eyes go impossibly wide, bugging out of his head before stammering, “I, I… You’re the apartment manager.” He glances at Dean before looking up at Sam. “I’m not sure who you are?”

“His brother, and lawyer.”

Chuck visibly gulps. “Look, uh… I understand I’ve been late on rent, but I always pay it. Really, I do.” He turns to Dean, “Don’t I?”

Dean’s having trouble feeling his toes. “Dude, it’s like, below zero out here. This has nothing to do with rent. Just let us in, okay?”

With wary eyes, Chuck relents and lets them in. While warm, his place is a mess. There’s one dim lamp illuminating what should be a living room but looks more like a home-office that has had a tornado pass through it. Haphazard stacks of paper, magazines, books, newspapers, are everywhere, some having cascaded to the floor. There are old clothes, beer and liquor bottles, and take out containers wherever there aren’t piles of papers, and sometimes underneath or on top of said piles.

And the smell. It’s all stale booze and B.O. _Dude, even I wasn't this bad_ , Dean thinks. Chuck eyes them warily as Sam wrinkles his nose at his surroundings then picks up a paperback book off of a shelf.

“So, I hear you’re a writer?”

Dean always loves watching his baby brother go all shark-lawyer mode. His back straightens, his expressions change, and you’d think you were staring into the eyes of the devil himself. Chuck visibly swallows back a whimper and nods. Sam continues.

“And in these books are the adventures of Saul and Dan Remington.”

All Chuck can do is nod dumbly.

Sam’s head tilts, and he’s wearing his ‘I pity you, dumbfuck’ face. “All we need to know is, where do you get your source material?”

Chuck runs a hand through the greasy curls on his head and sighs. “Look, I’ll tell you guys everything alright? Just let me get a drink.”

After settling down with a glass of whiskey, Chuck does just that. He met John Winchester in a bar, and over time the man told stories of his two boys, and how he’d disappointed them. About how he’d sunk so low, his eldest had to drop out of school to help feed his brother. But his youngest, he was going to college, on a scholarship and everything. Even though they’d argued, he was so proud. John had talked about how he wished he hadn’t raised Dean to be a soldier, that he hadn’t pushed him away and into the Marines, because the man that returns from war is never the man that left. But then in July of ‘06, he stopped coming to the bar.

Chuck had read about the man’s death in the paper and he’d already published his first couple Supernatural books. He used the stories John told about his sons and wrapped them in fantasy. The boys went around saving people, hunting things. Like a family business. Dean scrubs his face in his hands, and glances over at Sam whose expression is like a pig looking at a wristwatch*, stunned from all they’ve learned. But Dean still has some questions. He asks about Cas. How did he know?

“I used to be much more than a writer once upon a time, Dean. I still have connections. I also used to leave the house on occasion.” Chuck stares at his hands.

This is all too much to take. Chuck’s been living in these apartments for years, even before he started writing. So he has connections to Bobby, his dad, himself, who knows who else.  He interrupts Chuck offering Sam his old recordings of John to say he’s stepping outside. It’s dark now, and so cold he can feel his nostrils frost over, but inside that apartment is just too much weird for him to handle. Breath puffing out like steam, he stays out until his fingers go numb then heads back in. Sam’s holding a small box full of little tapes, and he looks all weepy. Chuck stands up and holds out a stack of papers to Dean.

“What the hell is this?” Dean asks, taking the papers and looking at what appears to be a manuscript. The title across the top reads: _The Monster at the End of This Book_.

“I get stories from fans, sometimes.” Chuck smiles, “Just read it, you might find it amusing.”

Dean just stares at the pages and then back up at Chuck, who’s swallowing a mouthful of cheap whiskey. Sam’s futzing with the box of tapes, with that weepy look still on his face. God, he needs to get out of here before someone grows a vagina. After telling Chuck to pay his damn rent on time, he drags Sammy back out into the cold and over to his apartment, where he’s had roast beef simmering in the crock pot all day.

\---

Right on the heels of their discovery about Chuck, February rolls in and they have to get special haulers to cart off all the excess snow piles. Bobby storms about, supervising every move the removal crew makes. The weather does its best impression of a yo-yo, not able to make up its mind if it’s going to be above freezing or not, of if there’s gonna be sunny skies or precipitation. Dean’s almost glad when they get freezing temperatures and snow two days in a row, because at least it’s familiar.

As Valentine’s day approaches, Dean grows increasingly irritable. He hates the invented holiday, and how it’s all about candy, and flowers, and dinner, and promises you don’t intend to keep, just to get some. Although, he admits at one time in his life that used to be fun.

Maybe it’s because he’s right next to someone he can’t have. Although that excuse gets weaker every day as Cas improves, and as the docs cut back his meds more and more. On the fourteenth, Dean is grumpy and snaps easily at people over small things. Even Cas. He goes home and decides to spend the evening alone, with a couple of burritos and some good old El Sol beer. And he tries to avoid thinking what Cas might be doing right now.

******

Castiel is anxious and paces the free space of his kitchen and dining room. Dean has been in a foul mood and has made it obviously clear he hates Valentine’s day and what it represents. Forlorn, Castiel looks down at the dozen dark chocolate chile cupcakes he’d baked for Dean. He was finally going to tell him how he felt, the holiday being an appropriate time to finally admit it. Staring at the pan of foil-lined and carefully frosted cakes, he debates throwing the whole thing out the damn back door.

Disgusted with himself, he turns away from the kitchen and flops down on the couch, running his fingers through his hair. After letting out a frustrated sigh, he calls Anna. This was all her idea, anyway. He spends a half hour letting her psych him up again, and just after sunset he’s ready to say screw it. Either Dean’s going to laugh in his face or politely shut him down. Either way, he’ll have finally gotten things off his chest. Checking his sweater for lint, pulling on his coat with shaking fingers, then gently carrying the covered tray of cupcakes, he trudges his way over to Dean’s.

He’s so nervous he both rings the doorbell and knocks. When Dean opens the door, his eyes widen before his lips pucker and turn down. _I knew this wasn't a good idea_. Castiel opens his mouth and proceeds to babble at the man.

“So, I’ve been baking and made too many cupcakes, and was wondering if you’d like to try them, it’s not for any specific reason, I just noticed you’d been irritable and thought something sweet might cheer you up.”

He takes a breath and stares at the top of his tupperware, listening to the frantic beat of his own heart, afraid to look up at Dean.

“Um, yeah, sure. C’mon in. What kind of cupcakes?”

Castiel looks up, and Dean’s off to one side holding the door open for him.

“Dude, you’re letting all the heat out. Get your butt in here.”

Once inside, he hands the tray to Dean, takes off his coat, and proceeds to tell him all about the history of chocolate, and how the Mayans used to drink a brew of cacao and chile pepper, among other things. He found a basic recipe and added just enough pureed ancho chile to give it a little heat. By the time he’s finished his little monologue, they're seated on the couch, cupcakes on the coffee table, and beers in hand.

Dean seems to think El Sol is an appropriate beverage, and says he just had burritos, so it’s kind of like Mexican night. Castiel shrugs and sips nervously on his beer, watching as Dean unceremoniously takes his first bite. When the man groans around the mouthful and swears, he knows at least the cupcakes are a success. Dean quickly finishes off the first cupcake and dives in for another.

“Holy shit, man. You should open a bakery or something. Seriously.”

Castiel vehemently denies any actual talent. “I just borrow other’s recipes, I don’t do anything creative.”

“Dude,” Dean says around another mouthful, “I’ve never had a spicy chocolate anything before.”

This makes Castiel blush. “It was… it was featured on a Valentine’s day recipe page…” He looks down, not sure how Dean will react to the mention of the holiday.

“Well, you rocked it.”

Castiel stills, his heart in his throat. Dean no longer seems bothered by the mention of Valentine’s day. He looks up, and Dean takes a swallow of beer after polishing off his second cupcake. Castiel can feel his face heat, and his skin prickle as he watches the simple action.

The way Dean drinks from a bottle is unfair. He closes his eyes, tilts the bottom edge just inside his full bottom lip, and guides the mouth of the bottle with his tongue, that damnable, wicked tongue, exhaling as he tilts it up. Just before any liquid comes out, his lips wrap around the opening like a caress, and he gathers a mouthful, head inclined, before puckering and pulling the bottle away, just enough suction from his lips to avoid dribbling. Castiel doesn’t think he’s ever viewed a basic action such as drinking to be erotic before.  He can’t stop looking at those pink, beer-moistened lips. It suddenly feels warmer in the room.

Dean glances over, and he almost does a double-take, head swiveling to look at Castiel, his mouth partially open, eyes hooded. It makes it look like Dean’s gazing at his lips, and he can feel his face flush further. A gulp of beer will help hide his face, right? Dean seems to shrug it off and leans over the container, selecting his next cupcake.

He looks down as he peels the foil off of the edges of this one first, and says, “They’re not pie, but these are pretty freaking awesome.”

He glances sideways at Castiel as he takes a bite, managing to smear frosting across the corner of his mouth. Of its own volition, Castiel's hand reaches out to wipe at it. Reflexively, Dean’s tongue swipes out, licking the edge of Castiel’s thumb in the process. Time seems to come to a halt, and their eyes lock, and Castiel can see Dean’s jade-green eyes dilate. Warm breath curls around his wrist as Dean exhales slowly.

Swallowing, Castiel lowers his hand, but can’t break from the look of those eyes.

“Dean,” he says softly, hardly more than a breath.

Dean puts down his cupcake, not looking and almost missing the edge of the coffee table.

“Yeah?” he practically whispers.

“We've known each other for a while… and…  I was wondering…”

Dean’s eyes widen, “What?”

“What… what do you feel for me?” Castiel can’t breathe, can’t do anything but wait for his answer, heart pounding in his chest. No, this is it, he knows, and it’s all going to come crashing down.

“Uhh,” Dean manages, “You’re honestly my best friend, Cas. I think you’re awesome.”

“Oh.” Castiel feels the room grow cooler, his skin prickling in a different sensation. “Is that so.” There’s a hard lump in his stomach.

Something in his expression must have alerted Dean, because he says, “Dude, are you okay?”

He’s finally able to shift his gaze from Dean, and he looks down at the beer bottle in his hands. The taste is sour in his mouth. “Yes. I’m sorry, I should head home…”

“Wait!” Dean grabs his wrist as Castiel stands up.

“What… if I told you, _hypothetically_ , that maybe there’s more? That I might think of you… as more…” he clears his throat, “than just a friend?”

There’s a slight tremble to the hand on his wrist. He sits back on the couch with a thump, still unable to look at Dean, not sure if he’s willing to believe what he thinks he hears.

“What would you do?” Dean’s voice cracks on that question.

The sound of blood rushing through his ears, Castiel slowly looks back up at Dean, eyes wide. “I… I think I’d want to kiss you, Dean.” He swallows, “Hypothetically, of course”.

They lean closer to each other.

“Of course,” breathes Dean.

Castiel’s eyes drift back down to Dean’s lips. “You still have some chocolate…”

“Maybe you should take care of that,” Dean sighs, his lips just right… there.

Castiel leans forward, and their mouths brush against each other. Dean’s lips are soft, oh so soft. He pulls away and looks at Dean, whose eyes are half-closed, his cheeks flushed. Castiel’s fears slowly drain from him, leaving his limbs loose and pliant.

Dean’s eyes flick back up to his for a second, before locking back on his lips. “Cas? Is it all gone?” he whispers.

“There’s still some left.”

They’re drifting closer again, slowly, slowly.

“Then you should finish what you started.”

Dean’s breath is sweet with the scent of chocolate across his face, and he dips in once again to taste. This time, he flicks his tongue against the corner of Dean’s mouth, tasting the frosting there. With a hitched breath, Dean’s lips part more, his tongue breaching, testing. Castiel takes this opportunity, and as their tongues meet, they both moan, deepening the kiss. His blood is singing in his veins, rejoicing in this kiss, Dean’s tongue lapping against his, the heady closeness of the man intoxicating. Everything is Dean.

A hesitant hand touches his arm, sliding up and bunching the sleeve of his sweater, up to his shoulder. Leaning forward, Castiel reaches out and grasps Dean’s hip. As if that was a sign of approval, the hand on his shoulder trails lightly up the nape of his neck and tangles into the hair at the back of his head.

Castiel feels like he’s flying, Dean’s mouth on his like heaven, warm like a benediction. Through all of his -albeit limited- experience, a kiss has never felt like this. Both energized and languid at once, his skin tingles, heart racing, senses dulled yet heightened. Everywhere he and Dean are touching is in sensory overdrive, and the rest of the world is so much static. Overcome with a desperate need to breathe, Castiel pulls away from Dean's mouth, gasping.

***

When Cas pulls away, Dean leans forward just a bit, then rocks back to try to catch his own breath. He turns and leans back into the couch, trying to stealthily rearrange the uncomfortable erection in his pants. Holy hell, that was… it was… he doesn’t even have words for what that was. Dean had freaked out more than a little when Cas had asked how he felt. So he blurted a cover answer, one that said as much as he dared without a full confession. But the hurt and disappointment in the guy’s eyes. He could feel something monumental was happening, and he didn’t want to let that go. So he took a chance. And now he’s here, with Cas looking all kinds of… just…

Dean tilts his head back on the couch, angling it as he watches Cas try to find a more comfortable position as well. God, he could drown in Cas’ eyes and die happy. They’re shining, and smiling all on their own, their owner’s mouth still recovering from a kiss that left his parted lips all pink and puffy and looking good enough for Dean to just want to reach over and pull him closer… Dammit, get a grip, man. He’s turned into a teenager again.

Cas turns toward him, a knee pressed into his hip. There’s this goofy half grin on his face, and Dean’s thinking about kissing it off. Holy shit. Dean has to close his eyes and breathe for a second. This is actually happening. It’s not a dream, not a fantasy, Cas is really here, and… touching his hand. He looks down, and Cas has placed his hand lightly on Dean’s, as if he’s going to pull away if it’s unwanted.

When he looks back up into those blue eyes, he can see the questioning uncertainty lurking there. Can’t blame the guy, since Dean’s been trying his damndest to act like he didn’t want more.  He brushes his thumb across the tips of Cas’ fingers and squeezes, before leaning over and pressing their lips together. Cas’ hand tightens around his, and the other cups his jaw.

Dean can hear the whimper in the back of his own throat at the touch, and he grabs a fistful of the other man’s sweater, pulling him closer and leaning in more. Their kiss becomes more forceful and heated, the slick-soft glide of tongues devolving into a devouring possession. A soft noise from Cas spurs him on as he unleashes months of pent-up want.

Somewhere along the way, Cas gets pushed back so he’s reclining on the couch, with Dean’s hands up under his sweater, touching his overheated skin. He’s nibbling behind Cas’ ear, and hears his breath catch as he grazes a nipple. There are things he’s not used to, the lack of soft breasts in a bra, the firm erection in Cas’ pants pressing against his belly, Cas’ stubble scratching his cheek. As he lightly bites on a collarbone, eliciting a gasp, he has a weird reality warping moment, where he remembers a smaller, softer body, and long red hair. Oh shit. Anna. On his couch, in almost the same position. Cas’ freaking COUSIN.

Dean practically throws himself off of Cas, and starts pacing, fingers in his hair and palms pressing into his eyes. Dammit, shit, fuck. What the hell is he doing? He’s gotta tell Cas, and then the dude will hate him. Oh God. He starts hyperventilating and trips over the corner of the coffee table. After tumbling into a heap on the floor, Dean just stretches out, and stares at the ceiling. Better to get this over with.

“Dean?”

Cas’ worried face appears in his line of sight, and the man looks like he’s curled in on himself. Dammit, he probably thinks he’s done something wrong, when Dean’s the massive fuck-up here. Cas reaches a hand out before pulling back and looking away.

“Are… you alright?” His voice is tight, and comes out raspy.

Time to get it over with. “C’mere, dude. I need to tell you something.” Dean beckons with one hand before sitting up.  

Cas inches closer, and Dean motions at a spot on the floor for him to sit. He squats down and hugs his knees, eyes anywhere but on Dean. He supposes it’s as good as he’ll get for this.

“So, what I need to tell you...”

He watches as Cas’ hands grasp his knees tighter, knuckles going white before he nods in response.

“You’re gonna hate me for this, and you can punch me for it after, but… I, umm…” God, he can’t look at him for this, so he stares at the half-eaten cupcake on the coffee table.

He takes a deep breath and blurts it out, “I slept with Anna.”

Screwing his eyes closed tight, he waits for the inevitable fallout: screaming, a punch, maybe even a kick. He’d deserve it for being such a tool. What he doesn’t expect is the sigh and the gentle hand on his shoulder. Opening one eye and looking up, he sees Cas kneeling before him, without a trace of anger or hatred. Wait, what?

“Uhh, isn’t this supposed to be the part where you get mad?”

Cas’ mouth twitches, and he reaches forward to place his palm gently on Dean’s cheek. “She already told me.”

Well that’s… weird. “And you’re not upset at all?”

The hand slips from his face, and Cas chews on his bottom lip.  “I admit I was resentful at first, because she got a taste of something I thought I’d never have.”

Shit, Dean’s been an idiot this whole time. “And now?”

Cas closes his eyes and swallows, “Now, I hope you don’t push me away.”

Relief washes over Dean, and he surges forward to wrap his arms around Cas. The guy’s body is stiff, surprised to be kneeling on the floor and being hugged, maybe.

“Not gonna happen,” Dean whispers into his ear, and arms slowly come up to wrap around his back. His shoulders sag in relief.

After a while, his knee begins to protest being on the floor for so long, so he gently pushes Cas away, keeping his hands on his shoulders. He looks into those beautiful blue eyes, and smiles.

“Dude, my knee’s killing me. Can we get up off the floor now?”

With a nod, Cas stands up and offers a hand, which Dean takes. After he rises, they stand there, looking at each other, hands still clasped. Dean wants to do things differently with Cas. He’s never had a real long-term relationship before, outside of Lisa, and well, look how that one turned out. Plus, this is a biggie, this one’s with a guy. Yeah. Jumping straight into sex is probably not the best idea. Time to sit down and do something he’s not really used to. Talk.

They sit, and after Dean fumbles through an explanation, to which Cas blushes, the conversation comes more easily than Dean could imagine. Of course, they’re both awkward about the sex part, because even though Dean has experimented, it was years ago, and Dean wasn’t the one on the receiving end. And to find out that all of Cas’ sexual experiences could be counted on one hand, with fingers left over? Jeez, for the first time Dean is ashamed of how many women he’s slept with. Yeah, time to slow their roll. Maybe being friends before this will help.

It’s late, and Dean still has to work tomorrow, so Cas gets ready to go home. He leaves the cupcakes behind, saying maybe he can come over tomorrow. Dean says he’d like that. They're standing by the door, not ready to open it yet, because it means he has to send Cas back out into the cold. They lean in until their foreheads touch, and then Cas opens the door, giving Dean one last kiss on the lips.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

“Goodnight, Cas.”

******

Castiel steps into the cold, determined to not turn around until after Dean closes the door behind him. He might not ever leave if he does. Halfway down the sidewalk, he stops, looks up, and stares up into the night sky. The clouds that had lingered all day have dispersed, leaving the crystal clear sky twinkling with stars. With a soft smile, he rushes home.

Once inside, Castiel throws his coat over the back of the couch and practically dances up the stairs, then flops down face-first onto his bed. Of all the outcomes he’d imagined, this definitely wasn’t one of them. Mind awhirl with the events of tonight, Castiel rolls over and stares at the ceiling. They had even talked about their past experiences.

Castiel knew Dean had experience with women, but to find out he’d actually experimented with men in his youth was a bit of a shock. Luckily, it’s not too much experience, because his own is pitifully small. He’d never really done anything with Balthazar, and his longest relationship was with a woman named Amelia. To think they’d almost gotten married before he joined the Army. She almost kept him from enlisting, too. He tries to imagine what it would have been like, raising children with her, but all he can see is Dean in his mind’s eye. Dean in his office, curled over in pain in damp grass, cooking pancakes in the morning, sleeping on his couch, the fire in his eyes before kissing him passionately.

He remembers Dean shirtless, wet from the pool, his scarred left arm visible in the sunlight. Oh. That’s one more thing they need to talk about. He thinks about that day they first kissed, after running through the sprinklers. He’d practically stripped naked in front of the man, and Dean must have seen his tattoo. Maybe he didn’t recognize it. After all, he was suffering from injuries and smoke inhalation, half unconscious. Even the Supernatural books mention it, the palm-shaped scar Kafziel had left on Dan Remington after raising him from Perdition. Dean had never said a word. Of course, Castiel had recognized the name, a Greek derivation of his own.

Eventually, his thoughts wind down. He doesn’t even bother undressing or brushing his teeth. He just curls up with thoughts of Dean, arms wrapped around a pillow, as he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pig looking at a wristwatch: Military slang for a dumbfounded look.


	15. Exploration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: the gay sex, nothing too explicit. some mild homophobia

The next couple of weeks are interesting, as Dean and Castiel learn to navigate this new facet of their relationship. Dean is very uncomfortable with public displays of affection, and he keeps reminding Cas who has become quite touchy-feely. Of course,Dean is sending mixed signals because as soon as they’re alone, he’s pretty handsy himself. He seems to prefer grabbing handfuls of Cas’ ass when they kiss. Not that Castiel minds.

They have the conversation about Castiel saving Dean from the wreckage, and it’s kind of anticlimactic. “I already figured out it was you, Cas. But that’s the SOAR badge, not Rangers.”

Dean has to admit, he wants to know more about Cas flying helicopters, because that sounds cool as fuck. Dude was SpecOps. Cas explains that saying he was a Ranger is just easier than explaining SOAR, and Dean’s gotta admit, it makes sense. Luckily, Cas doesn’t ask much about what Dean actually did while over there.  But he does ask about the incident itself, and how many people were actually lost. It’s difficult to talk about, because he lost good men that day. But he tries.

When he brings up Cas’ discharge, the guy gets quiet for a moment before whispering, “Can I just say that we did things I’m not proud of, and it affected me badly?”

Yeah, he can understand that, and silently wonders what they could have done that was so much worse than Alastair, but he really doesn’t need to know. Later, after the emotions brought up by it all, they just snuggle on the couch, pressing soft kisses into hair or over a heart. Anything more passionate just seems to feel wrong, for both of them.

Taking it slow is frustrating at times and involves a lot of dry humping, but Dean’s not quite ready to handle the ‘where do your dicks go when you fool around’ question. Cas is the first one to stick his hand down Dean’s pants, and after an uncomfortable incident involving a zipper, Dean adjusts to mutual masturbation (which feels much better than grinding with their pants on).

Dean almost feels like a teenager again, as he discovers things about himself and about his dynamic with Cas. He’s still learning how Cas reacts to stimulation differently from a girl, and maybe gets a little too focused on the guy’s nipples. When Cas gets annoyed with him playing around with them for so long it becomes irritating, they find out that Dean really likes just about anything Cas does to his nipples, including biting. Castiel finds this is the easiest way to distract Dean from griping about being the little spoon when they curl up together during a movie. Just reach around and tweak Dean’s nipples until he forgets about complaining.

One day, Castiel asks Dean about the tattoo on his chest, what it means. His fingertips skim the encircled star and flame design. Dean shrugs, and traces the symbols on Cas' lower abdomen. "Something similar to this, I suppose. After Dad died and before I had to go back, Sam and I both got it. It's supposed to be a symbol of protection. We found it in one of Bobby's old books."

Another thing that Dean is learning is that it doesn’t have to be about sex all the time. Even though they spend practically every day after work together now, they’re not always going at it. Just after the first of March, Dean and Cas are enjoying some couch time vegging in front of the TV, when he realizes they haven’t gotten each other off in three days. Of course, now that he’s taken note of it, he has to remedy that immediately. It doesn't take long to distract Cas from the TV with kissing and touching, and by the time he gets Cas free of his pants, they’re both ready to go.

The first one to give a blowjob is, surprisingly, Dean. Cas has been content to let him set the pace, and Dean has been daydreaming about Cas’ mouth and what it would feel like… But he has this whole thing about reciprocity and he wants to be able to give as well as receive. And well, that’s the problem. Yeah, Cas is a dude, and they’ve kissed, and ground up against each other, and gotten each other off with their hands, and it’s all been awesome. But sucking dick… that’s like the definition of gay. But he wants to be with Cas, there’s no doubt about that. So he has to get over it.

One evening while watching college basketball at Cas’ apartment, Dean makes up his mind and without explanation turns off the TV and leads Cas upstairs to the bedroom. He does all the work, kissing Cas stupid, pressing him against the bed, undoing his pants. And while the whole thing is awkward and leaves his jaw a little sore, it’s worth it watching Cas slowly come undone beneath him, seeing him gasp and squirm, feel his fingers dig into his scalp when he does something just right. Toward the end there’s more hand than mouth involved, but he stays latched on as Cas finishes. Then has a minor dilemma as he tries to figure out what to do with the mouthful of Cas’ spunk, which is a little bitter and becomes less palatable the longer he holds on to it. With a grimace, he swallows, and it’s the weirdest feeling.

Cas wants to reciprocate. While awkward, it’s hot as hell and Dean’s embarrassed about coming too fast, so he promises next time. Next time happens to be the following day, right after work, and Dean’s afraid he still gets off way too fast. The feel and sight of Cas going to town on him, looking up through those damn lashes, even though he’s never done it before, it’s so much better than anything he’d imagined. Cas also has the unfortunate timing of taking a breath right as Dean comes, so it gets all over his belly. Cas makes it up with something even a woman hasn’t done to him before, and that’s lap it all up. Jesus. If he’d had the refractory period of a teenager, he could have come again just from that.

\---

One day, while they’re enjoying just being snuggled up and watching a movie, Cas brings up gardening.

“It’s getting warmer, Dean. Soon you’ll have to work on the gardens around the property.”

“Yeah, Bobby usually figures that out, I just plant what he says and when.”

“If you don’t mind, I have some ideas. Do any tulips come up in the spring?”

This is how, a few days later, Dean goes over to the junkyard to have a conversation with Bobby about flowers.

"You know, we're called Singer Gardens. We should have some more, you know, gardens.”

“Dammit Dean, I ain’t planting any more than I have to. I know you have to do most of the work, but I have to figure out how much to get every year.”

“Actually,” Dean shifts uncomfortably because… well, technically he hasn’t told anyone about the whole relationship status thing with Cas yet, and he’s afraid Bobby will see right through him. “Cas has some ideas…”

Eventually, Bobby relents, but says he gets final approval, because he doesn’t want any weird shit growing in his gardens, and that goes with the new flower beds, too. Cas is actually pretty awesome about that, and by the end of March, his ideas include some large pots near the office, and a fountain near the entrance. And whoa, Dean knew the dude could draw, but holy crap. He’s got top-down charts, detailed plans, and illustrations showing what the gardens will look like in full bloom.

Dean brings Bobby to the office to have Cas describe all the crap himself, because Dean can’t even pronounce half of the plants Cas wants to use. But most of them are native species or something, and he’s got some that repel bad bugs, and others that attract pollinators or whatever. It even overwhelms Bobby to the point he’s blinking at the man as he rambles about annuals, perennials, soil acidity, and peat versus bark. He even offers to do most of the planting, and thank God for that. Dean remembers how sore he was after crawling around in the dirt for a couple of days getting their normal crap planted.

When Bobby asks for bottom-line price, Cas rattles off a minimum and a maximum, depending on what’s available at nurseries and what he can get started from seed. After some grumbling, Bobby says Dean can use the corporate cards to buy what he needs, but to keep it in budget, and to not go frigging crazy with anything. Cas looks so damn happy with a big, sappy grin on his face, and it makes Dean smile too. Bobby gets an enthusiastic hug around the neck from Cas, which makes the old coot sputter and turn an interesting shade of pink.

\---

They get the garden beds prepped by the first week of April, and Cas’ dining room is practically unusable due to all the flats full of seedlings everywhere. But just when they’re ready to plant, they hear of a cold front, and hold off. The cold weather lasts two weeks. If they’d already started planting, everything would have died.

After a rough day of shoveling thick, wet snow in April, Dean’s face-down on his bed while Cas works on the knots in his back. They’re spending more time at Dean’s right now because Cas’ place smells like dirt, and fertilizer, and green things; and half the apartment is useless, covered up with trays of growing things that desperately need transplanting. Dean doesn’t mind that Cas has been sleeping next to him, either. Cas hits a particularly stubborn knot, and gets a pained grunt from Dean as he works it out. When he works out all the kinks he can find, he places light kisses up and down Dean’s spine, which causes other parts to stiffen.

Dean’s glad Cas is so patient and persistent, because these massages are awesome, and usually lead to fooling around afterwards. He’s just thinking of flipping over and stripping Cas’ clothes off when the guy presses against him and whispers in his ear, “Dean, I would like to try prostate stimulation.”

His whole body goes rigid at the suggestion. They’ve been progressing slowly, and they just found the perfect way to grind together, hip-to-hip, and they've explored each other’s bodies pretty thoroughly, but Dean’s been avoiding that one area. Cas has taken the hint and followed his lead, leaving anything between the cheeks as a no-fly-zone. But Cas… he’s an inquisitive dude, and is always looking up stuff on the internet. Dean remembers choking on a burger when Cas showed him a video of… Well, it involved an impossibly large, double ended rubber dong and two guys backing into each other. Once Dean had registered what was happening on screen, he closed the browser and told Cas to stop going on porn sites. That’s how computers get viruses. Heh, Dean should know, he’s given Sam’s computers enough digital STD’s over the years.

“Dean?”

Oh, yeah, Cas just dropped a bomb, and here he is, trying to not freak out about it. It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it, and he’s played around some when a girl said she liked it, heck, he’s even tried to find his own prostate before. But… it’s his butt. He knows what comes out of it, and Cas wants to go sticking things _in_?

“Uhh, Cas, I dunno…”

Cas huffs into his neck, tickling the hairs there. He’s lifted himself from Dean, and the soft t-shirt he’s wearing grazes Dean’s back lightly.

“I understand your concern about cleanliness, and the research I've done is…”

Oh Jesus, the guy’s been on the internet again. Cas keeps talking and Dean’s brain wanders again. Yeah, Dean’s been researching too, because he knows one day they’re gonna have to go there. But even though gay porn makes it look easy, he also knows there’s a heckuva lot of prep-work that goes into it. To think some people actually put their mouths there. He shudders at the thought.

“Are you paying attention?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure Cas.”

“Then stay right here, I’ll be right back.”

Wait, what? Cas’ hovering, warm presence vanishes and Dean wonders just what the fuck he agreed to. That guy gets some of the craziest ideas… Within moments, he hears Cas’ footsteps, and then the dip of the bed as the man crawls back into place above him. Too late, Dean realizes he should have rolled over as Cas nibbles and kisses down his neck. If he was facing the other way, he could have distracted the man from whatever fool action he’s about to take.

Cas strokes his hands firmly up and down Dean’s arms, his sides and his back, as he slowly gets closer to Dean’s posterior. Oh Jeez, he can’t help but tense, wondering just what Cas is gonna try, and he starts to think of ways this could go badly. When’s the last time he used the can? What’s the last thing he ate? When Cas realizes how tense Dean gets the further down his back he goes, he reverses course, and kisses his way back up to his neck, and whispers soft encouragements.

After Cas gets him relaxed again, he tells Dean his plan, which involves a latex glove and plenty of lube. Jeez, Cas seems so enthusiastic, and Dean’s still mostly relaxed from the freaking awesome massage earlier, so he agrees. And yeah, it’s freaking weird. Cas uses enough lube that Dean can feel it dribbling past his balls, and the gloved finger reminds him think of prostate exams. He’s wondering what’s supposed to be great about this, until Cas’ finger finds that spot inside, and it’s a goddamn revelation. Dean comes way too fast with two fingers up his ass and Cas’ other hand stroking his dick.

Holy hell, that’s unfair. Because now that Dean knows how that feels, he wants to do that to Cas. Cas _has_ to feel that. And Dean wants to give it to him. It’s amazing how quickly Cas has circumvented his years of ingrained aversions. It hasn’t happened overnight, but with slow, loving guidance and acceptance. And, maybe the occasional use of the tie he maybe on-purpose forgot to give back from Halloween. It’s the next day, after a long, hot shower, when Dean returns the favor. And probably even more lube than what Cas used on him. But when Cas falls apart from his ministrations, collapsing into a jelly-limbed mess, Dean decides it’s worth it.

It’s not much longer until they go ahead and try full-on anal sex, and Dean knows he’s ruined for anyone else but Cas. He’s finally let the guy in completely, body, heart, and soul. Dean’s always had a bit of an addictive personality, yeah he’s willing to admit it now, but he’s to the point that the thought of being without Cas almost physically pains him.

Which makes it difficult when his knee-jerk reaction to being in public with Cas involves pulling away. He doesn’t know how he can possibly deserve the man, he’s so patient and understanding, and Dean can occasionally see the hurt in Cas’ eyes when he distances himself when they’re around other people. But Cas says he understands. How can he understand, when Dean can barely figure it out himself?

\---

Dean dreams of a surreal landscape, misty white. Before him stands Cas, wearing the suit and trenchcoat combo he hasn’t seen the man wear since Halloween. Every time he reaches for Cas, he’s just out of reach. Every step towards him pulls him further away. Cas’ voice, saying “I’m sorry, Dean,” echoes with every footstep. He’s calling out to Cas, but he’s not responding, drawing further and further away. Startling awake with a hollow feeling, he reaches over and panics slightly when he discovers he’s in bed alone.

Whenever he wakes like this, Dean has that momentary doubt, wondering if the past couple of months have even been real. But a cursory glance around the room helps confirm how much Cas has integrated himself into his life. Some of Cas’ clothes are in his closet, and the pair of pants folded over the back of a chair is Cas’. He brought over this strange, papier mache thing, kind of like a hideous, masculine matryoshka doll. It’s red and fat, with stylized facial hair and two black pupils colored in with Sharpie. Cas called it a Daruma* or something, and said it had something to do with good luck and wishes or whatever. Dean thinks the thing is weird, and he glares back at its creepy looking dead eyes before crawling out of bed in search of his… boyfriend? lover? partner?

Downstairs, staring out the sliding glass door is where he finds him. Cas is in a blue robe, drinking a cup of hot tea as he watches the sun rise. Dean wraps his arms around him, nuzzling his neck.

“Whatcha doing up?”

Cas leans back into him and sighs. “I think the weather’s finally turning. We should be able to get rid of the plants in my dining room soon.”

“Mmmm, that’s good. Then we can start cooking at your place again.”

Dean’s apartment isn’t that small, but trying to cook with two people in the kitchen can be a bit of a lesson in coordination. Cas’ kitchen is much bigger and they’ve got enough counter space that they don’t have to plan every step of preparation for a meal. Especially when Cas makes his home-baked bread. Dean could eat a whole loaf in one sitting all by himself. Food now in the front of his thoughts, he nibbles at Cas’ ear, thinking of breakfast.

Cas tilts his head, giving Dean access to his neck, and shivers as he trails his cheek and lips up and down the length.

“I love you, Dean,” he sighs.

Dean pauses, his hands tightening around Cas momentarily. It’s not the first time Cas has said those words, but he still has trouble making them come out of his own mouth. Yeah, he can talk about his love of pie, or his car, but this… This is big. He mumbles “You too,” into Cas’ neck, before giving one last squeeze and heads for the kitchen. He’s gotta find a way to get over this, before he loses Cas. He knows he can’t keep treating him like a dirty secret forever.

******

Castiel feels Dean pull away as soon as he says the words. While Dean tells him in so many ways through actions how much he loves him, Castiel would still like to hear those three, simple, beautiful words. He would also like to not have to fear those who see them together. Whenever they’re in public, it’s like they return to the way they were months before, when both were afraid to admit how they felt. Actually, it’s more like Dean’s the one who is afraid to admit it, while Castiel is finally able to be comfortable with himself.

Once, Castiel suggested Dean go visit Dr. Naomi for a therapy session. That had escalated into an argument, with Dean leaving in his car for a couple of hours. Before Dean returned, Castiel thought it best to give him space, and retreated to his own apartment, looking after the seedlings that were awaiting planting. He waited until midnight before crawling into his own bed, which hadn’t been used in weeks. While he lay in bed, trying not to cry, he received a text message.

_-Look im sorry. But i cant do therapy like you. Never been good about talking about feelings and things._

While he’s reading, another one pings.

_-Can we just kiss and make up?_

He knew that things weren't perfect, and they’ve both been dealing with things in their own ways. Dean’s may not be the most healthy, but if they want to be together, they must learn to accept each other the way they are. Quickly, he replied.

_-In bed. Not getting up. If you want, come join me._

After only a couple of minutes, Castiel heard the door downstairs open and close, then feet dashing up the stairs. Dean leapt into his arms, crushing him in his embrace. He could feel Dean trembling , so he wrapped his own arms around him, holding tight. Dean apologized, swearing he was going to try harder, to just give him more time. And Castiel knew he’d wait as long as it took, in order to keep this man by his side.

And here he is, in the early morning, feeling Dean pull away again. What if Dean doesn’t feel the same way he does? How long until he gets pushed away for good? What if Dean decides their love isn’t worth it? Castiel tries to push the doubts from his mind, but he’s never loved this strongly before. If he were to lose the man he loves… No. He’s not supposed to dwell on what-ifs, but on the positives.

While Dean may not be able to say it in as many words, he does reciprocate. Even when Dean pulls away from physical affection in public, he still shows it in his eyes, whenever they look at each other. Their relationship is worth fighting for, and he’ll be damned if he’s giving up that easily. Taking a sip of his cooling tea, Castiel joins Dean in the kitchen to help with breakfast.

***

The last few days of April are damn near perfect. The temperature gets up into the seventies, and they get all the gardens planted. Dean celebrates that weekend by hauling out the grill and having a barbecue, with Sam and his family, Benny, Cas, Bobby and Jody. He makes it a pre-birthday cookout for Sam, joking about how it’s his last days before turning the big Three Oh. They’ve got the lawn furniture out and Dean’s watching Cas with little Thomas, holding him up and letting him pull hair, yank his lip, poke him in the eye, grasp his nose. There’s a warmth in his chest, and he can’t help but smile as he watches them. Sam settles next to him, and he quickly schools his expression.

“Dean, it’s okay. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

 _What_? Dean feels heat rising up his neck, and he turns away, taking a sip of the drink in his hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He can hear a throat clear behind him. “You and Cas.”

 _Shit_. The heat progresses up to his hairline. “Me and.. what? Pshhh…”

Dean slouches down in his chair and stares straight ahead, a smirk on his face. “Funny joke, dude.”

Sam places a hand on his forearm and leans in, lowering his voice. “Look, I know Dad was all… uptight about stuff like that, and South Dakota isn’t the most forward-thinking state, but…”

He squeezes Dean’s arm a little and tugs until he’s at least side-eyeing him, “Jess and I can see the way you two look at each other. And we’re okay with that.”

Sam leans back, and Dean is in the middle of an internal war with himself. Sam knows. He can tell his brother’s turned gay. Oh, Hell. Before Dean can get his inner turmoil too agitated, Sam speaks up again.

“I didn’t mention it to upset you, Dean. I want you to be comfortable around Cas, and not try to avoid him. You both have done a lot for each other, and — Oh, jeez.”

Thomas has managed to pry the top off his sippy cup and Cas is currently wearing the contents. Sam runs over to grab Thomas while Jess helps the man mop the juice off his shirt. That’s when Dean realizes that Cas is wearing _his_ shirt. The old AC/DC t-shirt that he likes to lounge around the house in. No freaking wonder Sam was all up in his business about Cas.

While Jess is busy daubing at Cas’ shirt, he looks up and locks eyes with Dean, an apologetic half smile on his face. When he realizes he’s probably staring with a dumb look on his own face, Dean forces his eyes away, rubbing at the back of his neck. He soon feels a shadow fall over him, and when he looks up Cas is standing over him, looking concerned. He’s got a wad of paper towels in his hand and is still trying to clean up the juice on his shirt.

“Dean, maybe you should sit in the shade for a while. Your face looks like it’s starting to burn.”

Dean’s face warms further, but it’s not because of the sun. He looks at the wet stain on his shirt, and realizes he needs to get that rinsed out before it sets. It is one of his favorite shirts, after all. Standing up, he grabs Cas by the elbow and drags him into the apartment.

“C’mon, let’s get you a clean shirt.”

If, when they come back out to join their guests, Cas’ hair is a little more wild than usual, and their lips are a little more pink, no one gives any indication that they notice. But when they’d gone into Dean’s room, seeing Cas strip off his shirt with guests just outside was too much. Even if Cas had smelled like juice and baby drool.

After everyone’s eaten and Thomas has been put down for a nap, Dean and Sam sit on the patio while Jess and Cas insist on cleaning up. Jody had to leave early, leaving Benny and Bobby to argue about baseball in front of the TV.

Sitting in silence for a while, Sam says quietly, “You guys look happy. I’m glad.”

Dean scowls at him and says nothing, just flicks his eyes to the open doorway, nothing between them and the rest of the house but a screen.

“C’mon, Dean. You don’t think Bobby’s gotten a clue by now? And Benny works with you.”

Scowl deepening, Dean shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “But—”

“No, Dean. You have something here. Don’t screw it up because you’re afraid of it.”

Sam stares intently at him, until he has to look away. “You’re starting to sound like Charlie.”

Sam laughs. And yeah, Dean had heard almost the exact same thing from the quirky redhead last time she came by to pay the rent. Apparently Cas had let something slip during a conversation and she had dug it out of him. But he knew she’d be cool with it, because she’s, well, gay herself.

“It’s just… I dunno, Sam. I’ve always liked pie, you know? And it’s like I suddenly started liking cake more.”

“Just one flavor of cake, Dean.” Sam smiles at him warmly. “You don’t have to like all cake, and you can still like pie.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “You just like this one particular cake the best.”

Dean grins, “Does this make me pastry curious?”

Sam grins and smacks his arm. “Just don’t go cheating on that cake, okay?” He stands up and opens the screen door, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “He’s good for you,” he says softly. “I don’t want to see you mess this up.”

As Sam closes the screen, Dean shoots back, “Look at you, getting wise in your old age.”

“You’re still older than me!” he calls back.

After everyone has headed home, Dean and Cas settle on the couch, Cas’ head on Dean’s thigh while they watch some random Syfy movie about a giant crocodile and an alligator. While he sits there, running his fingers through Cas’ hair, he thinks about what Sam said. And he’s right, of course. He can’t keep pushing Cas away. He’s been telling himself that for a while. But… dammit, it’s hard when he knows how people can act about two guys, you know, together. But he knows that this is it, _Cas_ is it for him. And he’ll do anything to keep this man by his side, regardless of what anyone thinks of them.

“Hey, Cas?” he says softly.

“Hmmm?”

“I…” he swallows, “I love you.”

A slow smile spreads across Cas’ face. He reaches up and twines his fingers with the hand not in his hair.

“I love you too, Dean.”

And that’s that. He doesn’t make a big deal, just accepts it and returns with his own. Dean continues to stroke Cas’ hair, and they hold hands through the rest of the movie.

******

Castiel is nervous. Sam’s birthday was Thursday, and the party is Saturday, today. And it will be the first time actually going out together with Dean as an official couple. Of course, it’s just going to be a small group of people at Sam’s house, most of whom he’s already met, but he knows Dean’s struggling with the thought of being a couple in front of others. They talked about it, after the cookout the previous weekend. Dean had said he was tired of hiding their relationship from the rest of the world, and that Cas deserves better. So first, they’re going to be a couple in front of family.

And Dean finally told him he loved him. He knew it, of course, and had been patient, knowing the man has trouble expressing himself. But to actually hear Dean say it. Smiling, he closes his eyes and remembers those soft words just a few days ago. It was all he could do to remain still, to keep from kissing Dean senseless. But he understood Dean well enough by now to simply accept it, and wait until later. Of course, he’d been extra thorough in satisfying Dean sexually that night. If Dean can express himself verbally, then Castiel can do so physically.

The memory of Dean’s pleasured moans circling through his head, he looks in his closet for a shirt. He selects a long-sleeve blue button-up, and debates if he should wear a tie or waistcoat. He knows it’s going to be casual, so he leaves the top two buttons undone and rolls his sleeves to his elbows. Looking in the mirror, he can just make out the edge of a mark on his collarbone. With a smile, Castiel heads downstairs, thinking about how Dean normally doesn’t like leaving marks, but sometimes gets a little overenthusiastic.

Dean’s at the dining room table, his laptop open and Skype loaded, while he talks to Ben. Knowing that’s another hurdle they’ll need to get over later, he sits down in the living room and waits for Dean to finish. Castiel knows Ben has accepted him as his father’s friend, but he hopes the boy will accept this new facet of their relationship. He’s heard Ben complain about his mother’s boyfriend, and doesn’t want that to happen to him. By the time Dean’s off the computer, Castiel is all worked up about being accepted by Dean’s family. Dean said Sam already knows, but what about Bobby?

Fingers thread though his hair from behind and a kiss is placed on the back of his neck. Tension eases out of him as Dean leans over the back of the couch, wrapping one arm around his chest.

“Hey, you seem more nervous than me.”

Castiel sighs, “I just want them to like me.”

“Cas, they already do. And Sam said that us being… together, won’t change that. So just chill.”

After a brief kiss, he’s pulled to his feet and they leave for the party. And Dean was right. Even though Dean sweats through actually holding hands in front of others, he makes sure to make an effort. No one acts any differently toward them, and he gradually relaxes, able to enjoy the food and company. Bobby’s his usual gruff self, and the few other guests treat him like anyone else. At the end of the evening, when they leave, Dean even kisses him on the cheek on front of everyone, blushing furiously but obviously making the effort. Sam grins, Bobby drinks a beer, and Jess claps her hands in delight, before pulling Castiel into a hug.

“You take good care of him,” she whispers before releasing him and giving a wink before curling an arm around her husband’s waist.

When they arrive home, they’re both physically exhausted. He drags Dean up the stairs, they get ready for bed, and crawl under the covers to fall asleep soon after a few sweet kisses. Today was a good day.

***

As May progresses, so does their relationship. When Castiel’s lease comes up for renewal, Dean moves out of his one bedroom and in with Cas. He jokes that he doesn’t have to worry about being inappropriate with a resident since they’re under the same roof. When Dean tells Ben that he’ll have his own bedroom for the summer, the boy reacts with excitement, and doesn’t even flinch at the idea that Dean and Cas are together.

Of course, not everyone is accepting of them, and they lose at least two residents when their relationship becomes widely known throughout the apartment complex. Bobby says he doesn’t care, that they don’t need people like that living there anyway. Benny eventually goes full-time at the diner, and stops working at the apartments when he’s promoted to manager. Cas helps Dean manage the apartments, and is Dean’s extra hand when his left arm acts up. While it’s still weak and flakes out on occasion, the arm acts up less now that Cas is there to help massage out the tension.

Charlie drags them to a LARP event one weekend, and Castiel finds it fascinating, even though the costumes are uncomfortable. Dean loves it, enjoying the combat elements, and Charlie keeps him by her side as her personal guard, as she’s been given Queen status over the festivities. She jokingly gives him the title handmaiden. Much to Dean’s embarrassment, the title sticks. However, Dean enjoys seeing Cas in action, helping plan strategies and whipping plenty of LARPer butt all on his own.

Due to the heavy snowfall during winter, which caused some school closings, Ben doesn’t get out of school until almost mid-June. Thanks to their Skype sessions, father and son are more comfortable around each other. Of course, whenever Ben sees Dean and Cas hold hands, kiss, or do their staring thing, he makes sure to let them know they’re being gross, and to stop scarring his fragile teenage brain. At first Castiel is upset, until Ben explains that he just doesn’t want to watch his parents be all mushy. He says he thinks Cas is pretty cool, which makes the man grin like an idiot.

Their summer starts out relatively uneventful and peaceful, and they take Ben camping, and fishing, or just hang out at home, watching movies and hanging out at the pool. One Saturday evening, while Ben is camping with some friends he’s made, Dean and Cas are sprawled out in the grass, watching the stars come out after sunset, one by one.

As it gets darker, fireflies begin to glow and flash around them, filling the sky with twinkling, phosphorescent lights. One lands on Cas’ hair, and Dean coaxes it onto his finger, where they watch it crawl to the tip, blinking its yellow-green light and then spread its wings , flying into the night in search of a mate. Dean can just see the man next to him, smiling warmly. He combs his fingers through Cas’ hair and pulls him closer, kissing his mouth slowly and deeply, saying “I love you” without words as the fireflies climb higher into the night sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Daruma: It’s actually what helped me find the title, as it’s a variation of a common phrase associated with it. Find out more about the doll [here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daruma_doll).
> 
> Well, thanks everyone who decided to stick with the whole thing!  
> Once again, thanks to my proofreaders and my awesome artist!
> 
> If anyone can link me to the original Tumblr post about Dean, cake and pie, I'll credit them here.


End file.
